L'Aubaine
by Ameonna
Summary: L'Aubaine means 'a godsend' and that's what Erik got. Set after the 2004 movie. EOC
1. Prologue

**A/N: I think it's terribly obvious that I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of it's original characters, but for those of you that didn't know... There. Now you know.**

**Poor I had to delete this story twice before I finally figured out what I was doing. This is my first fanfiction published on the site, so if anyone has some formatting tips feel free to let me know.**

* * *

The music echoed through the catacombs; spiraling up the dripping walls and filling the silence. The sweet sounds of a violin played in private. Erik closed his eyes and focused on the music. He played to drown out his thoughts, to keep away his nightmares. 

He had proved himself to be the monster he had always imagined he was. The ruins of the opera sat above him, silent and charred. He had burned the place he called home. He had murdered. A thing he had promised himself he would never do again. He had gained his freedom from his master, why should anymore blood stain his hands?

But passion was a vicious mistress. The things she had demanded had taken a toll on him. Had it only been three years past? Only a scarce few years since the madness had torn through his mind and his soul.

The music died away. He left the violin on his desk and leaned against it for support. He was ailing and weak. He looked down the corridor that led into the alleys of Paris where he had fled those years ago. He had deserved to lose Christine. After the things he had done. He had deserved to lose it all. He deserved to live in loneliness.


	2. I The Customer

**A/N: Disclamer, I do not own the inellectual properties of thePhantom of the Opera. I do not ownErik. (But if I did I'd make him bring me chocolates and write me love songs.)**

**Yay! First chapter! I am reasonably proud of myself. We'll see how that fares if I make it to the last chapter. **

**In case anyone was wondering this is a E/OC fic. Christine and Raoul will both feature in it but not for a while. Until then enjoy my little Katerina and her nonsense.**

* * *

He was coughing, that was what woke him up. He forced himself to his feet. He could barely move and shivers wracked his body. He gritted his teeth. 

"Blast it," he murmured.

He looked through the herbs he kept but his vision was blurred. He didn't know exactly what he needed or what he had. Perhaps… If he could find someone… No. That was silly, who would help him?

He grabbed his cloak and tossed the hood over his face. Perhaps he could find an apothecary and still have the grace to get out of there before he fainted.

* * *

"Blast it!" 

Katerina dodged between a couple that was walking down the sidewalk,

"Pardon!" She called after herself.

It was late fall and the air had a crisp chill to it. Katerina ran; her long black hair flying behind her with her blue cloak. She was a pale beauty with dove grey eyes, she noted the looks from two men unloading a baker's cart, but she was in too much of a hurry to pay them much mind. She had promised her brother she would help in the shop once a week and it had occurred to her that today was Saturday and her brother kept the shop closed tomorrow. She sprinted around a corner and leapt quite gracefully over a kneeling paper boy who watched her land in awe and run up the stairs to the small apothecary shop her family owned.

"You're late!" Thomas teased as she skidded into the warmth of the shop. His dark hair was tousled and his brown eyes glittered with laughter, "I knew you were going to show up today. You forgot all about last week didn't you?"

Katerina panted with her hands on her knees, "I started a new piece, completely consumed by it."

Thomas shrugged and filled the glass jar he held in his hand with herbs from a wooden box on the counter, "Such is the way with you artists. Now get your apron on and help me sort these."

Katerina grinned at her brother and yanked her cloak off.

* * *

The morning flew by in relative calm, selling cures and medicines came naturally to Katerina. Her mother had been an herbalist and her father a surgeon. Her elder brother William was studying abroad to become a physician while he left her younger brother and herself to keep the apothecary shop running. 

She was leaning against the wall during a lull in the day when Thomas gave her _the look._

Her eyes narrowed, "What are you thinking about Thomas?"

Her brother smiled, "It's just that Madam Mina came around earlier this week with some papers that were left in your loft. After you moved?"

Katerina blinked and tried to look innocent.

"Kat, if you've moved out of your loft, where exactly are you living? Certainly not in the shop, you'd be here on time."

"I found a cheaper place," she ventured.

"There was no cheaper rent than Madame Mina's unless you're selling your looks, and by God's grace Kat, you better not be doing that."

"I am not whoreing myself out Thomas, I just. Well, I was tired of living on stipends from you and William. I wanted to do something on my own for a bit."

"You are somewhere safe thought? Please tell me you aren't living like some vagabond in an alley or something."

Katerina laughed, "No, I am not living in an alley, off an alley but not in it. I am perfectly safe Thomas. Please trust me."

"You aren't going to tell me where this place is, are you? I know that look."

"It's special to me. I like the privacy."

Her brother sighed and leaned over the counter he was behind,

"Kat, are you living with a lover?"

Katerina rolled her eyes, "No, what would make you think such a thing?"

He shrugged, "A brother can hope."

"Thomas!"

His laughter was only broken by the bell above the door. Customers had entered and Katerina swiftly went to wait on them.

* * *

"Thomas, I'm off!" 

Katerina waved at her brother and he smiled over the customer he was waiting on. He had a very strained look on his face. Katerina paused and listened, he was talking to a rather large man with red rimmed eyes. She knew an addict when she saw one.

"I am sorry sir, but this just isn't enough money. I cannot sell you the full dose; this could perhaps get you half but…"

The man was impressively large. Katerina swallowed, William had been robbed once by a group of opiate addicts. They had beaten him and ransacked the shop. The bell above the door sounded and a tall figure in a black cloak entered.

Katerina quickly went to wait on the customer still keeping an eye on her brother. She knew the customer said something to her and her hands reacted on their own, fetching herbs and a salve.

Money was left on the table as the large man turned, angry and empty handed. He glared at her for an instant and the customer she was with before he stormed clumsily out of the shop. Katerina felt her heart ease as the hooded customer left almost as quick.

"Are you okay?" She called to her brother.

He nodded back at her, "Thought he was going to knock me one for a minute but then he seemed to have gotten a better idea."

Katerina nodded and looked down. There had to be at least thirty francs in a messy pile on the counter. Her mind flew back to what the customer had purchased.

"Oh blast," she whispered, "he gave me too much."

"What?" Thomas asked.

"The other customer, he left the money on the counter and I wasn't paying attention, he left entirely too much."

Katerina gathered up the excess and handed the rest to Thomas, "I'm going to see if I can catch him before it's too late. I shall see you Monday."

Thomas nodded, "Be careful, it's getting dark earlier now. Have fun in your alley, you vagabond!"

Katerina chuckled as her brother called after her. Then she frowned, she thought she saw the customer head to the right. She tightened her cloak around her, Thomas was right; it was getting dark earlier and earlier this time of year. She was walking past an alley when she heard voices and a grunt.

She was horrified to see both customers from the shop, the larger man accosting the cloaked one. The addict held a gleaming knife and the cloaked figure leaned against the alley wall as if he were stunned.

The larger man was yelling in Spanish, something about money. Katerina almost gasped as he raised the knife. The figure brought up its hand and Katerina cringed as the blade slashed a brilliant wound across its palm and wrist. The figure took a step back as if he was about to faint and then suddenly lashed out. The knife clattered to the stones and the larger man stumbled backwards.

Katerina was in a panic, she had to do something; she needed to find a policeman. Something, she should…

"Halt there! Help! Police!" She cried and it worked. The larger man looked up with a panicked expression and ran down the alley, leaving his blade behind.

Katerinarushed forward just in time to catch the collapsing figure. It was a man, and he moaned in her arms. She shifted him to lean against the stone wall and pulled her apron off and pressed it tightly to the wound in his wrist. His head leaned to the side and she didn't know if he was still conscious.

"Monsieur!" she hissed, "Answer me, please."

The hood covered part of his face and she gently pushed it back. She blinked, he was wearing a mask? What an odd thing to wear; a white mask that covered the right half of his face. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be in pain.

"Monsieur," she breathed.

She could see the shadows of scars at the edge of the mask in places. His dark blondish hair was pulled back from it. Gently she reached up and touched his cheek. Katerina blinked, he was burning up! That was why he could barely defend himself.

She wrapped the cloth around his wrist again as the blood seeped through. It was a deep wound, it needed to be stitched. Gingerly she pressed her fingers tighter around his wrist.

He moaned again and his eyes fluttered. Slowly he opened them. He didn't seem to see what was in front of him.

"Monsieur, can you stand? We must go from this place."Katerina whispered.

His head moved as he tried to focus on her.

He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

Katerina blinked and shook her head. Night was falling fast and he needed to be taken somewhere safe. Mustering all her strength she pulled him to his feet. She was able to get his arm around her shoulders and still keep a tight hold on his other wrist. He seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. She prayed that it would last until she could get him home.


	3. I The Voice

**A/N: Phantom of the Opera, so not mine, I'd be running about touting myself as a genius if it was.**

**Chapter Two, still continuingwith our featured pair. The story is going to change a bit come chapter 6, but Ididn't think it was worth making two fics out of. It's just the way life goes.**

* * *

Flashes of light in the darkness, like a lightning storm; a murmur of voices that all seemed to blur together. Pain, he was in pain. So much that he could feel his strength waning from him. No, he had to keep moving, if he stopped now then… 

"Monsieur, you must lie still."

Who was speaking?

"You must let me bind the wound. Calm yourself, you are safe."

Wound? He didn't understand what was going on. He fell limp and felt hands on him. Someone was there with him. That was all that he understood.

"Rest monsieur, you are very ill, you need to sleep."

The voice was comforting. Like the sound of music when silence was all that was expected. Slowly he let go and drifted into welcome darkness.

* * *

Katerina sat in a chair by his bed and fidgeted. She was staring at his mask. It seemed to be made of thin porcelain. Of course that was simply what it looked like to her. She swallowed and went over the thoughts in her head again. 

The Opera Ghost.

She had heard of the opera ghost, there wasn't a soul in Paris three years ago that didn't get some gossip about the entire scandal. Murders, chaos, and an unrequited love. It gave Katerina a shiver just to think of it. It must have been a very exciting and scary time. She signed and looked over her patient. He was breathing easier now although his skin was still chilled. Katerina sighed and adjusted the blankets around him for what must have been the thousandth time.

Quietly she stood and went to check on the teapot. She didn't have the heart to tell her brother where she had been living. He would have had a fit. This part of the theater was relatively undamaged in the fire. The walls and foundation were solid, solid enough to accommodate her and her meager belongings. She believed she was living in the old prima donnas dressing room. She had removed a very large painting of the Diva Carlotta from the wall after it had given her nightmares her first night in the room. The gilded gold and white room, it was a place of beauty for Katerina. Too used to sleeping on a sack of straw over a loft that held six very loud children she was astonished to find the room untouched. The large four poster bed still made as if it was expecting its owner back any day. A feathered mattress with a down comforter; Katerina knew it was too good to be true. She knew that one day the owners of the land would come and she was just an unwanted squatter. Still, she stared at the man who slept fitfully in the large bed, what was he? A squatter like her? A ghost that haunts the ruins of a charred opera house?

Carefully she took the teapot off the hearth in the corner of the room. The water was warm enough for her needs. She took the teapot to the vanity in the corner and set it on a folded pink scarf edged with mink. She had carefully stitched the wound in his wrist closed and bandaged it with strips from a linen apron she had found in what she imagined had been servants quarters. The blood loss and shock hadn't helped circumstances. She imagined he must have been ill for some time to be in the condition that she had found him in.

Katerina frowned and crushed herbs into a teacup, followed by the steaming water. He was off in a bad way; she supposed he was lucky that she found him. He would have either collapsed from exhaustion or the addict would have killed him for his coin. He did have an awful lot of money on him for a ghost and very fine clothes. She had almost felt bad that his cloak and shirt were stained with blood. Still, they were but clothes and the important issue was that he was being looked after. She strained the herbs from the now tinted green water and sighed at the situation she found herself in.

He moaned in his sleep and Katerina looked up. He had lapsed into some restless dream after she had bound his wrist. He had murmured something to her and tried to take his hand away but he had been easily stopped. She cradled the teacup in her hands and went to his bedside once again.

"Monsieur," she breathed, "what has happened to you these last years?"

* * *

A hushed voice was speaking softly, asking lilting singsong questions of him. Someone gently wiped his face with a cool cloth. He couldn't tell where he was. It was too much work to open his eyes. His wrist ached. He vaguely remembered a knife, some annoyance yelling at him. In the fog of his mind he couldn't remember exactly what had transpired. A woman's voice, frantic and begging him to speak. 

"Monsieur, can you hear me?"

He could hear but he could not respond.

"Your breathing has changed, you are almost awake. Come Monsieur, you must be made to drink a little. Come, it will ease your fever."

Something was held to his lips, and a cool bitter liquid was in his mouth. He swallowed twice before it was taken away and he nearly fainted from the effort. The voice came back to him, praising him, soothing him. Who did this voice belong to? Was it just a voice, to be gone when he woke? If he woke, the darkness captured him again and the voice faded into nothing.

* * *

**A/N: Well? Am I doing good so far?**


	4. I Choice Words

A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, ooh, but I do own Katerina. So there.

* * *

"What do you mean they never found him?"

Thomas shot Katerina a look, "I meant what I said. After the fire in the opera house a mob of police and stagehands went hunting for him but found nothing but his empty lair."

"I assume they ransacked it," Katerina said offhandedly as she pulled apart the croissant she was eating.

Her brother shook his head, paying more attention to the figures he was scribbling than his sister.

"No? Thomas, you're going to have to explain."

"Since when did you become so interested in this opera ghost? He was just a madman that got his way for a little bit."

Katerina pouted, her bottom lip quivered, "Thooomaaas."

"Ah, fine, apparently the old owners had the entire thing sealed off. They were afraid that the catacombs would be filled with treasure hunters and tourists so they bricked it all up. They didn't want to be responsible for any more accidents. That is why no one is to go there and that is why the theater is still empty. It's simply a case of superstition and legal coverage."

Katerina lick the crumbs off her fingers enjoying the buttery taste, "I see now, thank you."

She hopped off the counter and headed for the door.

"Kat! Where are you going?"

She turned, "One of Jennie's little ones is ill, I am going to deliver the herbs for fever like I told you. I'm probably going to end up staying the night."

Thomas narrowed his eyes, "I don't want you around sick children all day."

"I'll be fine Thomas, honestly you worry entirely too much."

The bell to the apothecary shop sounded as the door shut behind her and drowned out her brothers grumblings.

* * *

The room was warm when she returned. Her charge was still sleeping, although it was much more soundly than the last two evenings. His fever had lessened and much to her relief the wound in his hand was healing nicely. She had gone to ask her brother about the opera ghost when he had murmured the name, Christine, in his sleep. Apparently she was the soprano that he had fallen in love with. Now married and living in Orleans with her Vicomtè husband. Katerina sighed, she felt sorry for him. It was a terrible thing to be spurned for another by the one you love. Of course that was simply how she had imagined it. She had been an all together too bookish and private girl to ever entertain any notions of love. Perhaps her brothers wished her to marry, to find someone that made her happy. 

Katerina sighed and made her way over to the small annex off the dressing room. It was filled with canvases and the smell of oil paint over powered the stench of stale memories. She had stopped working on the painting that had so consumed her not a week before. It lay half finished in the corner of the room. Instead she turned her attention to a charcoal sketch of Icarus that she had started working on while her ghost slept. She had to say that it bore a striking resemblance to the man in the adjoining room. A figure sprawled out, floating on the ocean, with bits of broken wings floating alongside him.

Expertly, Katerina picked up a pallet knife and went to work, "So she was Christine de Changy, did she break your wings Monsieur?"

* * *

The voice was singing now, a deep bawdy song about passion and lust. The voice was sultry and almost smoky. Not a voice for an opera singer, perhaps for a cabaret performer or something of the like, but not for opera. He opened his eyes just a little; enough for the world to swim into view. It was familiar to him, the rose patterned ceiling and the canopy of the gilded bed; the opera house? There was the distinct scent of tea leaves and... Paint? He closed his eyes and listened to the voice. The singer was off to his right more. He could hear movement and the rustling of fabric, along with a faint sort of scratching. 

The voice dipped a little and the scratching ceased.

"Hmm, now that doesn't look too right… Perhaps a blue sort of shadow instead of gray…"

A woman's voice; and she was talking to herself. About shadows? He eased back into the soft comfort of the bed. He ached from lack of movement. It occurred to him that he may have been lying there for quite some time. Perhaps that was why the voice was so familiar.

He focused and willed his eyes to open once more. He saw nothing at first and then the world faded into view again. He was in the opera house. In the prima donnas dressing room. He turned his head slightly to see the corner of the large gilded mirror. It had been shattered and the passage bricked up, but now the pieces of mirror were gone. The room looked clean, lived in. There was a cheery fire in the grate and to the side of his bed sat an empty chair. The side table held a basin of water with a cloth along with a teacup and an unlit candle.

Someone had been living here.

He blinked and wanted to sit up; he wanted to find more evidence of this little mouse that had made a hole for herself in his opera house. His eyes trailed to the small annex off of the room. The curtained door was pushed aside and he could only see the shadow of a figure in the room. It was bent over anotherflatter shadow and was now humming softly to itself.

He struggled to sit, to see; finally he was defeated and flopped back down in the bed linens. He debated calling out. It would be relatively simple, but the thought made him uneasy. He was unaccustomed to calling out to people and this fact made him twinge with displeasure. It was a simple thing, for normal people to do and the hesitationwith his voice only served to remind him that he was not normal.

Angrily he swallowed and then the coughing began. It was an annoying fit that seemed to have no end and brought tears to his eyes. Suddenly he was being made to drink and he swallowed the cool taste of water until he could catch his breath. He became aware, as he recovered, of slender fingers pressing into the center of his back. He almost froze with the realization that she had her hands on him.

"Are you better now, Monsieur?"

The soft voice came to him again only this time he looked up into the face of is wielder. She was a small woman with delicate features and long straight black hair. Her grey eyes glittered in the candle light like black pearls and her rose colored lips were moist and half open. She smiled at him like a Botticelli angel. A dark green dress clung to her slender frame.

"I am," was all that he said.

She gently let him back down on the bed as she returned the teacup to its place on the side table. Gracefully she sat down in the chair and sat smiling at him after a moment she took on a rather sheepish look and said,

"Neither of us are speaking, Monsieur."

"Perhaps we are searching for the choice words, Mademoiselle." He whispered back.

Her gentle laughter followed his comment and he found himself staring into her eyes again. She seemed so at ease in his company, as if she were simply tending to an old friend.

After a moment she smiled, "My name is Katerina."

He looked up at her, she was blushing now and he couldn't imagine why. After a few moments he nodded,

"You may call me Erik."

* * *

**Yay! Another chapter up and in it's place. I'm still having formatting issues but nothing too terribly disaterous. Yay for that. More will come in the next week or so. Or maybe tomorrow because I don't want to clean my kitchen and would rather daydream about G. Butler instead. Sigh, So dreamy...**


	5. I Hesitant Colleagues

**A/N: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. Period.**

**Ahh, next chapter, thank you all so much for the reviews, it's really nice to know that some people are reading this, since I had my doubts when I was starting. So is she Mary Sue? I don't really know since this is my first fic and I had some questions as to the exact definition of that term. Wanna help me out and tell me how you understand it?**

* * *

It was the second meal of hers that she had burned today. Erik rolled over in the bed and tried to hide from the smell of burning bread.

"Katerina!"

Any hesitations he had to calling out to her had faded very quickly over the last two days. The woman just could not pay attention. She shot out of the annex with paint on her hands, rushing over to the hearth while grumbling to herself.

It was quiet for a moment and then her soft voice, "Merde."

Erik refrained from saying anything. He was simply glad that she seemed to have an excellent supply of fruit and other foods that did not need to be cooked. He supposed if she didn't she would have starved long ago.

He closed his eyes for a few moments and when he opened them; she was peeling an orange and pondering something in the annex that he could not see. She had told him that she was a painter, and she spent most of her time in the annex working on some thing or another.

In two days they had barely said ten words to each other.

Of course that did not mean she didn't speak. Just not to him. She would ask questions of the curtains and of her paintings. She would talk to the teapot and scold whatever hideous thing she had managed to make her dinner into. The few words she said to him were polite and cheerful but she would never look at him like she had the first time he had awoken. He had thought that she was afraid of him but as time wore on he realized that she was about as accustomed to making conversation as he was.

She sighed and picked up the cooled iron plate she had taken from the fire. Slowly she tipped its contents in a waste bin and placed it back near the hearth where she kept it.

Then she peeled a section off her orange and came to sit in the chair by his bed. He was debating going back to sleep again. He was regaining his strength but was at the point where movement was as much as a burden as sleep was. He stared down at his hands, at the soft bandage that was wound around his right hand and wrist. It ached a little and stung as the nerves healed themselves but it wasn't anything he hadn't felt before.

He was careful to not look at her. He supposed he was avoiding conversation but she was very near him; sitting cross legged in an overstuffed chair quietly eating her orange. He wondered where she had gotten it so late in fall. She didn't seem particularly wealthy. She wore plain frocks and ate simple food. Of course she lived in the theater as well, but that didn't mean she was poor, just odd. He closed his eyes, at least as odd as he was.

"Monsieur Erik, do you have a home?"

He blinked when he realized that she was addressing him. She wasn't looking at him; she was looking at her orange while she peeled two sections apart.

"I live in the theater, if that is what you are asking."

She frowned and her brow furrowed, "I mean, some place that is waiting for you, not a place you live in exactly, but… a home."

"Are you asking if I own a house?"

She giggled at her orange, "A house isn't a home. Anyone can buy a house, it isn't the same. I believe I am thinking of a feeling, not a place."

Erick leaned back in the pillows, "Your questions are very convoluted, Mademoiselle. You must learn to think before you open your mouth."

She was silent for what seemed a very long time. He wondered if he had offended her but when he looked up she was staring at the last bit of her orange and her eyes were far off, thinking. Finally she looked him in the eyes,

"I think what I was asking was if you had someone waiting for you, at home, someone that might be worried with you gone for four days."

Her question stung him but he slowly shook his head, "No, Katerina, there is no one to wait for me."

An emotion crossed her face, but too quickly for him to read it, and then she nodded.

She leaned forward and offered him the last of the orange which he ate obediently from her hand. Then she was off again in a swirl of skirts and the scent of oil paint, off tutting to herself over her paintings and talking in singsong to her tints and shades.

He wanted very badly to see what she was working on. To see what she was creating. He wanted very badly to see inside her mind.

* * *

Katerina leaned the finished painting of Icarus against the wall and grinned. It had come out wonderfully; of course most of the shadows weren't right. It had been ages since she had seen the ocean but she reminded herself that she was her own worst critic. The next canvas she had prepared was rather large, not as large as the Diva Carlotta's painting which Katerina had painted over with white gesso so that she could reuse the canvas. 

"Such a terrible waste of paint," she had told the canvas as she covered up the image.

Now she stared at the canvas and turned it so that it was a landscape but then she shook her head and turned it back to its portrait size. She took a few steps forward and looked at Erik. He had gotten up this morning, long enough to walk about the room for a bit. Katerina had watched him and prayed that he didn't go into her painting room. He must have felt her staring at him because he had gone back to bed a few moments later. Now he was asleep, or at least pretending to be, with his arms crossed while managing to look annoyed.

The bed spread was covered in books. Katerina had gone on a hunt of the theater trying to find anything to keep him occupied. She had returned with almost half a dozen books, all of which he had read that very afternoon.

She supposed voracious would be the word to describe it.

He was now in the middle of a very thick book that she supposed he had saved for last since it was a collection of Gothic romances.

She slipped back to staring at her canvas. Perhaps if she… no, maybe she could paint… After a moment she sighed and snatched up a bit of paper and charcoal pencil and went to sit by Erik.

* * *

She was next to him again. 

He shifted, knocking books around with his knees and a few off the bed. He opened his eyes. She didn't seem to pay him any mind. Focusing on the piece of paper she had in her lap. She was sketching with a dark green pencil and he could see a smudge of it on her cheek where she must have had her hand.

"Katerina, what are you drawing?" he whispered.

"You," she whispered back without moving.

"Why?"

"Because you fascinate me."

Erik blinked as she sat; completely absorbed in her work, there was that familiar look of madness in her eyes. She would not be dissuaded from her task. Erik knew that look, he had seen it in his eyes often enough.

"May I see it?"

Her hand faltered for a second and she looked up at him. She was blushing again,

"I dare not show you something that isn't complete yet, Monsieur Erik."

He nodded. Half of him respected her as an artist and the other half was angry that she was leaving him in the dark. After a moment it appeared that she could no longer return to her sketches. She smiled slightly,

"I could show you a finished piece, if you wish it."

"I wish it very much," he said.

Her blush deepened and she stood. She was in the annex for a bit as if she were looking for just the right piece and then she returned with a small canvas and placed it across his lap.

"Icarus," he breathed.

He knew the Greek legend of the lad with wax wings who had flown too close to the sun and plummeted back towards Earth. It was a mournful piece; the man lay in the midst of the ocean which had been painted all the way to the edge of the canvas. It gave the appearance of solitude and loneliness. The wings, instead of the beautifully angelic ones he had seen on other renditions, were shredded and tattered. As if the sun herself had torn them from his back. Bits of feathers and string were scattered in the water around him and as Erik studied the painting he saw that the wreckage seemed to make an abstract heart around the suffering figure.

"It's beautiful."

"I got the shadows all wrong, and I'm not sure what to do about his…"

"_Hush_."

She quickly closed her mouth then blinked at him and sat back in her chair.

"Your use of shadows is fine," he began, "it doesn't need to be reflect nature, it just needs to stay with the feeling of the piece, which it does, rather remarkably. Your anatomy could use some work, but that is just a matter of practice."

* * *

Katerina had never shown another soul her paintings. Her brothers had seen sketches and bits of half finished drawings but never had she shown them a painting. They were too dear to her; she wouldn't be able to bear it if another soul saw them. Which was why she still didn't know why she had shown it to him of all people; maybe it was because she sensed in him a kindred spirit. 

"Do you paint, Monsieur Erik?"

He looked up at her and then nodded, "On occasion, I mostly sketch to pass the time."

Katerina smiled and hugged her knees, "What else do you do, to pass time?"

He gave her a quizzical look as if he was hesitant about answering.

"Nearly everything," he finally said.

Katerina blinked, "Everything?"

He nodded as he handed the painting back to her, "If it is an intellectual pursuit there is a great chance that I have tried it."

"So, do you write?"

"Novels, stories, music, poetry, plays, essays, did I miss anything?"

Katerina grinned, "No, I don't think you did, although I supposed the opera ghost is well known for his writings."

She quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. She hadn't wanted him to know that she knew of the ghost.

His expression was unreadable, but finally he nodded, "I wondered if you had heard those rumors."

Katerina let her hand drop, "They were quite popular, for a time Monsieur."

He wasn't looking at her. Slowly he brought his hand to his face and touched his mask.

"I suspect he will live longer than I will."

* * *


	6. I Paper Chains

**A/N: I am not the owner of the Phantom of the Opera. You all should know this by now. ; P**

**So here is a shorter installment. One of the better ones in my opinion. Yours? I look forward to reviews and thanks to Lonemutant for answering the Mary Sue question for me. ****

* * *

**

"My God, Katerina, these are wonderful!"

Her brother was looking at the paintings she had brought into his shop that morning.

Four of them, and Icarus was among them.

Thomas grinned, "Whatever is inspiring you I suggest you keep it close at hand. Did someone pose for this?"

Her brother gestured to a larger painting.

She had finished it late last night. It wasn't a darker piece like most of her paintings. It was of a man in his study, papers and models strewn about. He had his back to the viewer; although he was turning as if he had heard someone come through the door. His face was in distinct profile and one would have to look very, very carefully to see the thin white line that was the beginning of a mask that covered the part of his face the viewer did not see.

Katerina shook her head, "Not really, but the face is someone I've seen before."

"It's incredibly lifelike; I'd say the best piece out of all of them. It makes you wonder about the man," Thomas leaned closer, "There seems to be a little bit of everything on his desk. Drawings, the ships model, all kinds of writings, the sword off in the corner, and is that a sheet of music?"

Katerina nodded, "I like my men well rounded."

Her brother laughed, "Katerina, men with that many talents do not exist, you must prepare your heart for that fact."

Katerina nodded as if to resign herself to that fate.

If only you knew, dear brother.

Thomas nodded and then sat up, "Ah, I found out more about that opera ghost for you."

Katerina felt herself light up, "Really?"

"Common gossip from Jean Raul down the lane, apparently he terrorized the theater for almost a year. He murdered two people. One of them was Orlando Piangi, the leading tenor of the opera house."

Katerina blinked in shock, "You're serious?"

"Apparently he did it all for the love of the Daae woman. He apparently haunted the opera for years with people paying him little mind."

"The house and he got along."

Thomas nodded, "After she rejected him and became engaged to the Vicomte his behavior grew more erratic, more dangerous. They said that he had gone mad. That was when the murders occurred."

Katerina nodded, "I heard of that, and when the chandelier fell and burned the theater."

"It was the phantom that loosed the chandelier. To provide cover for his escape with the soprano, but it was she who escaped him in the confusion."

"So she got away," Katerina could see it in her mind, the beautiful singer who won the heart of a lonely ghost.

"Do you think he was a madman, like they say?"

Thomas shrugged and placed her painting behind the counter, "Who knows? If he had been living in the theater for so long without incident why would he start committing murders then? For the woman? For passion? You would have to ask the phantom."

"He wouldn't answer," Katerina muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking to myself out loud."

Thomas gestured to the paintings, "Are you going to leave these here?"

Katerina grinned playfully, "You cannot sell them my brother."

"I wouldn't, but perhaps I could keep the Icarus?"

Katerina swallowed but then slowly nodded, "You may, but I am taking the Monsieur back with me."

Her brother smiled, amused, "Is that what it is called?"

"That is what I call it," Katerina said throwing a sheet over the painting.

"Be careful," her brother called as she left.

"I shall try," she said stepping back out into the streets of Paris with her burden, "So help me Christ, I shall try."

* * *

He had been sitting on the edge of the bed when she had left, taking some of her paintings with her, wrapped in a sheet. She had told him that she would be gone all morning and perhaps the afternoon. He stood and tested his legs once more. He felt a little weaker than usual but other than that, fine. He swiftly gathered his cloak. 

He needed time, he needed to think.

He made his way swiftly through the wreckage of the stage and down the corridor on stage right. The corridor ended in a blank wall that he rapped twice in the upper left corner and the hidden door swung open.

A calmness came over him as he made his way down familiar passages and stairs. Nearly a week in bed had taken its toll. He was stiff and sore, but he moved quickly as his muscles loosened. He took the long way around since he couldn't remember exactly which side of the underground lake he had left the gondola. He barely remembered the few days before he had awoken in Katerina's care. He growled,

"Katerina, little souris, little artiste, caretaker of wounded animals."

The words echoed in the corridors as he pushed back a curtain and entered into his lair. The candles had all burned out but he knew how to find his way in the dark. Soon light filled his lair once again and the cold stones around him began to warm. What on Earth was he going to do with her? Living in his theater like an upstairs tenant. Perhaps he should charge her rent. She had money, she had told him of her brothers and of her situation. She was living in the theater because, as she claimed, it had 'called to her'. He would call the situation idiotic if it weren't for his own circumstances of living. But he had no choice, it wasn't as if he could just rent a loft in the city, write music, and eat supper with the landlord on Tuesdays. She had a choice, she could live among others. Still, she chose to spend all her time painting in an empty theater. He supposed it bothered him. He had no choice although as the years went by the longing to join the world outside had ebbed. If the debacle with Christine had taught him anything it was that he was not wanted by the outside world and he should learn to not want it as well.

He thought of the opera house, of the ballerinas and of Madame Giry. He thought of the productions that had been performed and of the productions that never were to be. It saddened him and served to remind him that it was his entire fault. He had abandoned his first love for a second and when he had been spurned there had been nothing to go back to. He had his music, only to be heard by him and whatever rats had come down the sewers to listen.

Slowly he went and sat at his organ. The last few years had been difficult. Madame Giry must have thought him dead. She had returned and found his lair empty, with the candles all gone. It was how he had intended her to find it. He had used her kindness for years and now he deserved no ones. He would have left it at that, living alone, rummaging for supplies when the time came, a beast hiding from the humans.

His feelings had not wavered. Not until Katerina, not until her soothing voice and her soft hands. What kind of woman takes a monster in like him and not only lives with him but nurses him by her own hand? Her kindness was a conundrum to him. Just as Christine's had been those years ago. She had kissed him to free him. To free him and her from the madness that had claimed him. He could still remember her soft lips and shuddering breath. She had touched him like no one ever had. Madame Giry was the first person that touched him without setting pain upon him, Christine was the first person to touch him as a woman would a man, and Katerina was the first to touch him like an equal. Like a human.

He didn't want to let that go. Not again. He could make a choice. He could stay in his lair; abandon her to her paintings and her ramblings. Perhaps time would pass and she would leave. Leave as all the others did. Still there was the passion that burned in him, the passion that would not be sated by his loneliness, the passion that had threatened to burn him along with his opera house. The passion was what opened the door for madness and now he feared it.

Stay hidden.

Be safe.

Hide your face…

Erik stood, quickly, ignoring the sudden spinning of his head. He stood still until he caught his balance, then he began pacing. He had always thought of himself as a logical man. Until Christine of course, logic had nothing to do with that. She had made logic flee his mind in terror when she sang. Now, what was the logical thing for him to do?

Take a risk? Stay safe? What was safety? What was life without living? He closed his eyes to calm himself. The little mouse did not spurn him. She did not fear him; that he could tell of. Perhaps… Perhaps she would not mind company if it was asked of her. Erik looked at the new mirrors that littered his lair, unbroken things that he had pulled down from the charred theater.

He gingerly flexed his wounded hand; testing for pain and movement. It hurt, but not enough to keep him from the work he wished to do.

* * *

He had taken his leave of her.

Katerina slowly went and placed the covered painting in the annex and looked around. There was no trace that he had ever been there, save the pile of books on the vanity table.

Katerina shook her head, what did she expect? That he would stay with her? That after but a week he was hers? Slowly, she sighed and shook her head of silly notions. She was acting like a child. To expect that suddenly they were linked. With what? Paper chains stringing their hearts together? It was nonsense and she should have known. He lived alone, why would he seek company now? She was angry with herself and marched out of the annex. She would have flung herself on the bed had she not seen the mirror.

Questions had been raised about the brick wall in the gilded frame. It was gone now, replaced by a full length mirror that reflected her shocked form. What was this? Had he left it for her? She walked up to it and felt a sudden draft. There was a gap between the mirror and the frame. Taking care she slid her fingers into the gap and the mirror rolled smoothly to the side. It was a door. A corridor, lit with torches lay in front of her. Katerina hesitated. He had left her a path.

Her mind told her not to go. He was a murder. A madman. Thomas had told her so himself. But her heart just laughed gaily. He had never made a move to harm her. He was grumpy and sullen but that was to be expected. He lived life alone. He was also very talented, and very intelligent. Also, when she had shown him her painting, when he had looked upon Icarus, for a second of a second, a time so small it could not be measured. He had smiled.

Steadily she stepped through the mirror and followed the paper chain that had been left for her.

* * *

**A/N: Souris is French for mouse. FYI.**


	7. I Some Hope

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but I did get a really nifty souvenir pin from the stage show.**

**Yay! A short chapter. Debating if I should continue the story on it's current path for one more chapter or to move on to the second half. Hmm, I think I'll go have some lunch and dwell upon that. **

* * *

Her voice echoed up through the catacombs and reached his lair. Erik paused at his work for an instant, long enough to hear the clunk of machinery and the sound of rope being dragged out of water. So she had stepped into the gondola.

* * *

The little boat seemed to propel itself through the water. Katerina sat in the beautifully lacquered gondola and stared at the carvings of the tunnels that she had found herself in. It seemed to be another building, some place that the opera had been built over that had sunk into the lake beneath it. Gothic carvings of strange gods greeted her and as the little boat was pulled steadily forward she heard music. 

Strange, sweet music, it wasn't anything she had ever heard and yet it was strangely comforting. Familiar, like someone she had met before. It took her a bit longer to realize that singing accompanied the music, a rich vibrant tenor the filled the tunnels. Katerina smiled, this was what his soprano must have felt like, like stepping into a dream. Nothing seemed real; yet the boat beneath her was solid and her heart was beating in her chest in time to the wonderful music.

The gondola turned a corner in the tunnels and Katerina saw light, the brilliant light of candles and gold. There were even candelabras in the water! The little boat led her under a portcullis and into a little grotto. It was Erik that made the music; he sat with his back to her playing amongst the gold and silk. Red velvet and rich lace filled her eyes and candles seemed to shine everywhere she looked.

The music ceased and he turned, almost striking the pose she had painted and his eyes leveled with hers.

At that moment she didn't care if he was a madman or a monster. In her eyes he was the most strikingly handsome man she had ever seen. He had to have been a genius to have made a world like this out of nothing but stone and icy air.

He stood and offered his hand to her, "Mademoiselle, your presence honors me."

If she had a weaker constitution she would have fainted dead away.

* * *

Erik didn't have words for how the look on her face amused him. She took his hand as he helped her from the gondola. She seemed amazed at all that was around her. It gave him heart to think that someone still found this place as beautiful as he once had. Before he had truly known that it was his prison. 

"Monsieur Erik, this is a wonderful place. I fear that I shall wake at any moment."

"One gets used to it," he said quietly.

She didn't seem to pay him any mind as she flitted through his lair. Like some little hummingbird in her blue cloak and gown. She seemed to be trying to see everything at the same time. Her eyes wandered across his desk and her fingers gently brushed the model of the theater as she passed it. She was a beauty to watch. Every time she saw something new she smiled and his lair seemed to glow all the brighter for it. She stopped finally, at the wall of paintings and drawings that he had made. After a few moments she laughed,

"Monsieur! You paint light like I paint shadow! How do you do it?"

He walked up to her, carefully keeping his distance from her. She was staring at a rather large painting of a garden in the sunlight. Roses bloomed everywhere and a lone woman sat on a stone bench with her back to the viewer. The sun caught her light airy dress and lit it with gold.

Erik had only imagined what this scene had looked like. He had never truly seen a garden like this, or seen the sun light up a woman's gown. He had only read of it and tried his best to imagine what it could look like.

Katerina's fingers hovered an inch from the canvas and she frowned, "Everyone is sad Monsieur. In every painting they are alone."

It was true, in all the paintings, all the sketches there was no couple. No pair of people together. He supposed one lone figure was all that he could fathom. Anything else was beyond his knowledge and beyond his skill. She turned to him and he thought her eyes glittered for a second before she blink and banished her emotion.

"You have a very wonderful home, Monsieur."

She had said it so shyly, as if she were an intruder that did not deserve to be there. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He had to ask her. He had to have some hope for his future; if he didn't then he had no reason to live. Not without hope.

"Would you like to stay the evening?"

Her face flickered as if she was trying to find the exact nature of what he meant. Her silence threw him into despair in a matter of seconds. He should have know, he should have never…

Katerina walked up to him and gently took his wounded hand between hers. She did not look at him and he did not look at her, but her sweet voice broke the silence,

"Monsieur, your offer honors me."

* * *

**Good?Oui or Non?You tell me. Fixed it afterwards, some a review told me that I may not have made my wording as clearly as I thought I had. I think thid does a better job of conveying me meaning. Stay tuned for the next chapter and a big change in the story.**


	8. II Le Opera Fantome

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Thank you.**

**Another short chapter, they will get longer, I promise.**

**And so the second part of the story begins, set two years after we last left our brooding phantom and his little artiste, I hope you enjoy the twist, it gets even better. **

* * *

**Two Years Later**

Monsieur Firmin gave a sigh as the coach pulled him up to the wreckage of the opera house. Workers were busy, replacing windows and carrying out damaged furniture.

He shook his head, "Stubborn woman, wastes no time at all does she?"

Quickly he got out and braced himself. It would be fine. The ghost was gone and finally he could get on with his life.

"Where is Madame Durand?" He called as a worker passed.

"The stage," the worker replied slipping out of the theater.

Firmin walked quickly through the throng of workers that hurried to clear the theater. Most of it was burned and blackened but it was still relatively solid. There would have been a chance he and Andre could have rebuilt, if they could have simply gotten away from the stigma of the opera ghost.

He spotted Madame Durand on the stage yelling orders to the workers as they lifted the chandelier. She was an impressive woman despite her size. Very lovely as well, her creamy skin stood out from her black work dress and her ebony hair twisted up behind her head. She grinned beautifully when she saw him.

"Ahh, Monsieur Firmin! You just missed Monsieur Andre; have you come to issue cryptic warnings about my disaster as well?"

"No Madame, I have come to deliver this deed to you and wash my hands of this opera house."

Her dove gray eyes twinkled in the light, "That is the best news we have gotten all day Monsieur, I thank you."

She bowed quite deeply and took the deed he offered from his hand. He looked around,

"It seems that the repairs will go well."

"The foundation is still good, as well as most of the building, the entire roof must be replaced thought and now I am going to have to deal with greedy contractors and their ilk," she sighed, "but it will be worth it for this place."

"Madame Durand!"

A young boy, no more than six came running up the stage. Firmin noticed a brace on the lad's leg but he seemed to be moving just fine with it.

"A letter, Madame, from Master Durand," he offered it up to her.

Madame Durand rolled her eyes, "Blasted man, can't leave me to my work for one solid day," She quickly broke the seal then began to scan the letter. "Yes, I have the estimate. No, that will take much longer than you keep thinking it will. Of course I did that this morning, what do you take me for? I have the deed, I told you it was to be delivered today, and no, of course I do not have a patron yet, it is too damn early," Madame Durand shook her head and looked down at the boy, "he is getting bored Giovanni."

The lad nodded and took the letter and the deed from her.

Firmin blinked, "If I may inquire Madame, but was that a letter from your husband?"

She nodded swiftly, "Oui, Monsieur, you did not think that I myself owned the theater?" She shook her head, "No, it is my husband that has purchased this wreck and expects me to manage it."

"Can he not manage it himself?"

"Non Monsieur Firmin, he was a victim of an illness when he was a younger man, it left him without the ability to walk. He cannot leave our house without much assistance. I have helped him as much as I can. Yet, a few years ago he read the story of your Opera Ghost and it fascinated him. After he found out that the theater was for sale he claimed that he simply had to have it."

"Does he do this often?"

She smiled, "I have managed many estates for him in the past. This is nothing new, surely a bit grander than I am used to but it seems like it shall be exciting."

Firmin nodded at her answer, "Although it seems like quite a bit of trouble on your part though, managing a theater, especially one with such a reputation as this one."

She smiled, "The things we do for love are no trouble. He enjoys this theater and it keeps him busy, so who am I to argue with him?"

Firmin nodded and kissed the back of her hand, "You, Madame Durand are a singular woman."

"So I am reminded by everyone I meet," she grinned, "I shall see you to your coach Monsieur Firmin. Come Gio, let us be off."

The lad nodded and followed them off of the stage.

Firmin was taken aback by this Madame Durand, a strange woman seemingly wed to an even stranger man. She was young still, and yet she devoted her life to the whims of her husband. Every man should be so lucky.

Madame Durand watched Monsieur Firmin's coach make its way into the city and she grinned. Finally she had the deed and the work had begun.

"Madame Durand!"

A woman with red hair and a notepad was moving swiftly towards her. She grinned for she recognized a member of the press when she saw one, "Bon jour, may I help you?"

"I am from a local paper and was wondering if you would be willing to give me a few moments of your time?"

"Just a few, perhaps. I have work to attend to."

"I was wondering if you could comment on the opening of the new theater and perhaps… the ghost?"

Madam Durand chuckled, "Well, the Opera Fantome will be complete by the summer, God willing, and as for ghosts, I do not believe in them."

"Surely your workers have found something?"

"No, Mademoiselle, they have found nothing to my knowledge, nothing but charred music and broken violins."

"No traps or secret doors?"

"The original owners all boarded those up years ago and I am not going to disturb them for their sake. Is that all for today? I really must be going."

The woman smiled, "Just one last question, with the changed name of the theater do you believe that the opera ghost will return when it is finished?"

Madame Durand grinned, "Mademoiselle, if he were truly a ghost, then he never would have left."

Madame Durand watched the reported walk off towards the street. She wasn't the first she had to deal with and certainly would not be the last.

"Do you want to send a note back to Master Durand?"

She yawned and looked down at Giovanni, the orphan lad she had found in the horse stables only a month before, "No, Gio, I think I shall much rather go home for dinner and tell him myself, besides, I think we have worked you quite enough for one day."

She mussed his hair as she hailed a cab, "Go on and make sure the workers don't laze about, I shall return in two hours time. You are in charge until then."

The boy nodded proudly as she sped away.

It was a modest house and thankfully only temporary. She believed that she might go mad if she stayed in it another month. She tossed her cloak to the butler and made her way upstairs where the help was not allowed to go.

He was playing the piano when she entered, a deep rolling piece that made her giddy and lightheaded to hear it. She waited until the crescendo ceased and last vibrations of the music left the room.

"You are back early."

"I came back for supper and to toss your infuriating note back at you."

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't forget anything, Mon petite."

He turned slightly as she placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed his temple right where his mask met skin.

"Did you have yourself an exciting day, Katerina?"

"Everyday with you is an adventure, Erik."

* * *

**A/N: Oooh, the story has changed! You're going to have to use your imaginations about what happened in the two years between part one and two. Though that may be dwelt on at a later time with one shots and sequels.**


	9. II Madame Durand

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, although one day if I'm really, really rich I might.**

**Here is the new chapter, and yes, it explains a bit what went on those two years. I shall be off wassaling and making Christmas cheer the next few days so updating will take a bit longer than usual. **

* * *

Erik walked the gardens when every one else was asleep. He liked to feel the cool night breeze and watch the moonlight shine on Katerina's potted roses. 

The notion still made him smile; her roses. He still mused as to how he had come to be with her in the 'temporary' house and how he had come to be the legal owner of the theater, or the Opera Fantome, as Katerina had christened it.

She had stayed the evening with him and for much longer after that. At first she had stayed in her dressing room, but after three months she decided that she simply was not going to keep traipsing up and down the catacombs, she claimed that a decision needed to be made. It was the first time he had seen her so frank with herself and she had found all the right words on the first try.

So, subsequently and without his answer, she had moved into the bedroom with the swan bed. There he had grown used to her tutting and her painting. It became as a familiar noise to him as his music. Although he found that when he played she would quickly go silent, as if to catch every note that echoed through the chambers.

It was a few months after that when she sold her first painting, a scene of a couple walking along an alleyway at night, to a duchess with an eye for the mysterious. Other people sought her out and for a time she sold paintings from her brothers shop. Erik saw the attention that she could gain. The wealth and the prestige. He had urged her to leave him, to find solace in her paintings.

He had never seen her angry before.

She had returned after almost a week and had gone to sleep in what was now _her_ swan bed and promptly forgot that he had said anything to her.

He let the matter fall, but a year passed with him growing more nervous by the day. He wanted to know of a future, and if there was none he did not want her presence to remain.

But he could not bring himself to cast her out.

She had wound her way into his heart like not even Madame Giry or Christine had.

Somewhere along the way she had become his friend and confidant.

And he had become hers. He now understood the look in her eyes when she glanced up at him. Peeking over a canvas or book. She was in love with him.

It scared him to think of it.

It scared him to know that he was the reason she smiled, that he was the reason she spoke more, that he was becoming the reason that she painted.

He, who had so longed for love, found it seemingly presented to him, had quickly snatched himself away.

He had hoped that his silence would drive her to leave. Yet, they remained living in that uneasy tension for a time until one morning he was awoken by her screaming. He came out of his room long enough to see her launch a painting into the underground lake and storm into the tunnel that led to the city.

He dredged the painting from the lake to find most of it smeared but still clearly outlined was a couple embracing. A couple painted in deep blacks and reds. He had sighed and propped it up on the shore to dry.

The next act in his little drama had come completely unexpected.

Katerina had returned that night sobbing, saying that she heard they were going to tear the theater down. They were going to sink it into the lake beneath. It was when she sat sobbing on the edge of the swan bed that she had cried out to him,

"Erik, they are going to destroy our home!"

He had taken her in his arms and swiftly resolved to right this matter, if only to not see her face lined with tears and sorrow.

A plan was quickly made, rumors spread through the city, rumors that might discourage the fops, Firmin and Andre from destroying their shame, rumors of a potential buyer. Why sink the opera house if they could turn a profit from it instead? It was what their predecessor had done, and why not they as well?

It had been a risky venture, but Erik was wealthy, wealthy enough to buy what he had long ago tried to bully into his possession. Katerina was thrilled and aided him wonderfully at every turn.

It was she that had come up with their 'marriage'. She had come up with it quickly while speaking to the estate agent that was in charge of selling the theater. They had arranged their meeting in the very opera house so that Erik could stand by and listen.

"I see your offer is quite adequate, but I wonder how a young lady like yourself came into such money."

He had cursed himself for his ignorance of Parisian society. She was a woman, she was unwed, and she had no name for herself save as an independent painter of some regard.

She had just laughed gaily.

"Oh Monsieur, it is not my money, but my husbands."

Erik had held his breath as she constructed her ruse.

"I see…"

"Yes, we are new to the city, we originally had an estate in Marseilles but he felt the need to come to the city, wanderlust, you understand, and he simply fell in love with the theater. We saw it on the carriage ride to our temporary estate. He found out all about its history and I daresay became quite enamored with such a mysterious past."

"Ah, I did not know, you are listed here as a Mademoiselle Katerina LeSuran."

Erik had watched her clasp her hand to her mouth and noticed that the golden ring of her mothers she usually wore had suddenly switched hands and fingers.

"Why on earth are they using my maiden name? I shall have to have that corrected immediately."

"Well, Madame, since you are wed, your husband will have to cosign on this building."

To this she had simply giggled again, "Oh non, I manage my husband's estates, you see he has a chronic illness and is not able to leave our home."

What a liar she had been!

A brilliant liar, for after he forged the right papers for her, she now had power of attorney over a faux estate.

And so the person of Madame Durand had been born.

She had impressed him with her acting, playing the part of devoted wife by day and illicit collaborator by night. It was quite obvious that she was doing this for her theater; and for him. Over the last month as their plan had come together he felt the need more and more to make her lie, a truth.

He clutched at the ring in his pocket. Three nights past he had bribed a jeweler to remain open after hours and purchased a proper ring for Katerina. It was a silver band etched in a swirled pattern that was to remind the wearer of waves. It reminded him of her Icarus. It reminded him of the circumstances of their first meeting.

What if Icarus had been found before he had drowned?

What if someone had taken the man, broken wings and all, and cared for him?

These thoughts tore at his heart and his mind. He would risk his current relationship with her if he asked her to wed; he didn't know if he could take that risk.

"Get out of my garden you vagabond!"

Her voice knocked him off his train of thought. He looked up at her window which she now sat in, looking deliciously tousled.

"Erik, go to bed before I have the gendarmes come and drag you off."

He smiled at her and called up, "What light through yonder window breaks?"

"I'll break your window… Come inside before you catch a chill."

With a sigh; he let himself back in through the garden door before 'Madame Durand' woke the entire block with her yelling.

* * *

"Of course we will have an opening gala," Madame Durand addressed a few scattered members of the press while standing on the theater steps. 

The sign with the new name of the theater had been erected that morning and it had seemed to cause some excitement among the community.

"The repairs to the theater will take as long as three months. The building was in considerable disrepair and we do not want to take our chances with any more… accidents."

A hush fell over the press and the eagerness glittered in their eyes.

"Thank you, that is all for today."

Katerina slipped inside the theater grinning like a cat.

* * *

"You know exactly how to play those people," Erik wandered his new study, pulling books from crates and placing them on the shelves as Katerina dusted. 

"Well, I'd have to know or else all this would be for nothing."

"Your pride may get you in trouble."

"_Black_, said the pot to the kettle."

A wiry smile crossed his lips as he knelt beside a crate and flipped through a medical journal he had found scattered among his things.

"Ah, that would be mine," Katerina said taking it from his hands and settling on the divan.

He watched her stretch her dainty legs out on the red velvet and thumb through the book, her eyes glittering with anticipation. She had worn a crème colored dress with more frills than she usually allowed on her clothing, for she had known that the press would be about today. There was a smudge of plaster in her dark hair and her slender hands were discolored from the wood stain she had been fiddling with that morning. He knew that Giovanni's would be stained as well. She had taken the little orphan under her wing after he had gotten a job in the stables that was beyond his ability. Now you could not see Madame Durand without little Giovanni trailing behind her, his arms filled with papers or taking short scrawling notes on things he needed to remind her of. Erik's hand clutched the ring in his pocket once more; the woman's kindness seemed to be unending.

It was the child's tiny knock and voice that broke him of his reverie.

"Madame? The plasterer is here."

Katerina spoke without looking up from her book, "Thank you Gio; now go show him the plans for the entrance hall and I shall be down in a moment."

"Yes, Madame."

Erik listened to the child's uneven footsteps make their way down the hall.

"Katerina, just how does that tot know where the door to my study is?"

She studied a passage for a moment before looking at him, "Well, I did not drag all your things up here by myself."

"So now I can be undone by a five year old?"

Katerina snorted, "He's eight, he's just small for his age and he's too clever and adores me too much to tell anyone. I made him promise."

"Vanity, Katerina, pride."

"Since when did you become a priest?"

Over the last month, with her new found confidence, she had quickly figured out the right words to make him silent. Swiftly, she jumped up and kissed the top of his head before pressing the hidden latch and gliding out into the hallway.

* * *

**Yay! New chapter! It's always exciting. I simply adore all yor reviews, they are a wonderful deterrent of writers block. So please keep them coming, I love hearing from you.**


	10. II Unexpected Guests

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera but he owns part of me.**

**Okay, one more chapter before I go spread some cheer. The mystery begins…**

* * *

"I think it is taking things a bit too far." 

Katerina waved her hand dismissively at him, "Shush, its wonderful idea, especially for the Opera Fantome."

"But a Bal Masque? Katerina, you have played with the publicity of an opera ghost since the beginning…"

"Of course, and this will be the final jewel in the crown. Everyone expects us to have a gala for the opening but we have not yet found our leading lady. Dominic is a fine tenor, you said so yourself; but we have no work to showcase, so a bal would be perfect! People would see the inside of the theater, come to know it and not be afraid."

Erik stared down at the gold leafed invitation in his hand. He knew that she had probably sent them out this morning so no matter how he raved he had no choice in the matter. He didn't know to be glad of her marketing skills or to be angry that she had made the decision without him. He pulled the invitation from its crème colored envelope.

Katerina had done the art; it was a miniature of the mural that she had painted in the front hall above the stairs. She had been eliciting contrary feelings in him since the theater had reached completion. He had come to see the mural after she had finished it. It was some of her best work to date, a scene of a lively party during the evening, with couples dancing and fireworks lighting up the outside of the imaginary windows.

What had struck him though was that she had framed it with two pillars of marble, so well painted that they may have well been real; and behind the pillar to the left was a woman. She seemed to peek around the pillar at the people who entered from the front doors. He recognized Katerina's likeness almost instantly despite the fact that the woman was wearing a mask. A mask that covered the top half of her face, it was white with black lace over it and matched her gown.

He had though it beautiful until his gaze moved to the second pillar and he found himself staring into a mirror. It was his likeness, perfectly, in his finest suit with his hand on the pillar as if he had just made up his mind to stop watching the crowds and return to the party in the center.

It wasn't just decoration; it was Katerina and himself watching over their theater.

The image had made him nervous; he was skittish that someone would know him. Still that was silly, no one would know him. Katerina played it off wonderfully, she was simply an enterprising manager that was going to make as much money off this 'phantom nonsense' as she could get. The public ate it up. He knew that when the theater doors opened they would flock to it. All because of her clever thinking; and because of it the phantom himself would become nothing but a tourist attraction. While he struggled to leave behind the image of the opera ghost, she seemed to embrace it. Still, the visions of horror created by the opera ghost years ago would soon burn into nothing.

He wondered if that was her plan, if he was no longer the opera ghost then maybe… Maybe he could simply become Erik.

He stared at the miniature portraits of himself and Katerina.

_We invite you to attend a Bal Masque in honor of the opening of the Opera Fantome_

_April, 18th at six 'o' clock_

_Dinner, dancing, and a special performance by the rising star Dominic Renault_

"Why a masque, Katerina?"

She looked up at him from the swan bed where had been sitting, sketching, when he had marched into her room.

The room glittered around her and was littered with paintings and candles. It had reminded him of his lair when it was complete. She had said that they were finally home. Once their rooms in the theater had been finished she had left the temporary house and took along her roses. They were now thriving on the sunny side of the theater as his panic grew.

She wasn't looking at him but she smiled softly, "It is a masque Erik so that would be able to attend." Softly she stood and paused at the door as she left, "but you do not have to, if you do not wish to go."

Quietly she made her way into the hallway and down to the theater; Erik clutched the ring in his pocket and silently cursed himself.

* * *

The estate was large and sunny; Christine smiled softly to herself as she held Raoul's hand. It would be a wonderful place to raise their child. 

The maid met them at the door and took their cloaks. Christine noticed a pile of envelopes on the front table. Curious she scooped them up and followed her husband into the sitting room.

"Oh no, please," Raoul said flopping into a chair, "No more invitations from fat dukes having galas in celebration of their horse winnings, please."

Christine giggled at his mocking tone, "It looks like only two invitations today, there is a letter from Meg and one from your banker."

"Hmm, only two? We must be losing our charm."

He leaned back as she handed him the letter from his banker and proceeded to break the seal on the first invitation. She would save the letter from Meg for last since she would savor it more. She sighed,

"Do we want to attend a wedding?"

"Who's?"

"I am not entirely sure, Millicent and Giuseppe?"

"Ahh, Madame Garoux's daughter, I'm not sure if you've met her yet."

Christine placed the invitation on the desk she leaned against and began to fiddle with the second invitation, "to speak the truth I am rather losing track of all the people I've met the last few years, I would really much rather just stay home."

"Christine, may I remind you that it was you who accepted every invitation we received. I had nothing to do with it."

She smiled as she slid the gilded paper from it's sheathe. He was right; she was much too polite to say no to an invitation. She froze when she glance down.

"Christine? Are you all right? You've just gone as pale as a ghost."

She handed the invitation to him and he grimly nodded as he read out loud, "We invite you to attend a Bal Masque in honor of the opening of the Opera Fantome, April the eighteenth at six 'o' clock. Dinner, dancing, and a special performance by the rising star Dominic Renault. I had heard that the Opera Popular had been purchased by some eccentric from Marseilles. Apparently his wife manages it for him."

"His wife? Do you know who purchased it?"

"I believe they are called Durand. Yes, Madame Durand, Sisi was speaking of her a few months ago. She's known for being very stubborn and prideful."

"Do you think this is some kind of joke? The invitation?"

Raoul shrugged and ran his fingers through his blonde hair, "I don't know. Perhaps the woman was just trying to be polite and forget the past."  
"But the etchings…"

"She has called it the Opera Fantome, Christine; it is obviously an attempt to bring in publicity by using the events of six years ago."

Christine frowned, "It is a very poor attempt."

"Yes, I believe that I wish to meet this woman."

Christine took the invitation from him and fingered the edge of the gold leaf, "Perhaps we will meet her if we attend."

Raoul shook his head, "I do not wish to return to that place Christine."

"You forget that it was a home to me before it was a horror."

She waited until his expression softened, "It is your choice Christine my darling, whatever you choose I will stand with you."

* * *

Katerina yawned and looked at the figures before her. They were simply not adding up at all. She would have to ask Erik to look over them. Poor Giovanni had nodded off on the divan. Katerina covered him with a throw and made her way down to the front of the theater. She wanted to send out for luncheon and she was sure that the maids were cleaning the front halls in preparation for tomorrow night. 

Erik had been avoiding her for the last two days. She had hoped it was nerves for the impending opening but she feared that she really had gone too far. Katerina sighed; she had hoped that if she trivialized the ghost that people would not be afraid of the opera house. She wanted them to come, to love it as she did. It was too late to scold herself for ignoring his feelings. The phantom was still a part of who he was. Not just a character in a story for her to do with what she wished. She would bring him lunch and tell him she was sorry. With any luck it was not too late to make amends. She didn't know what she would do if she lost him; not that she didn't deserve it if he did, with her acting like such a stubborn brat and not asking his opinions as she should be. It was _his_ theater; she just had to be grateful he let her stay.

Katerina froze at the top of the stairs when she turned the corner. A woman was speaking to one of the maids, a slender woman with light features and an expensive blue frock. Her rich brown hair hung in ringlets around her heart shaped face and her glorious brown eyes shone as the maid spoke to her. She was stunningly beautiful and she could see why Erik would have fallen for her.

Then Katerina found herself staring into the woman's eyes.

"Madame Durand?"

_Merde! _

"Yes, may I help you?" Katerina quickly smiled and made her way down the stairs.

The woman nodded slightly, "I was wondering if I may speak to you, you see I am…"

"Christine Daae de Changy," Katerina finished, "I recognize you from the photos in the opera house."

Photos, _posh_, she recognized the woman from Erik's drawings.

"Yes, my husband and I received your invitation…"

_What?_

"And I realize that the bal is not until tomorrow evening but I wondered if I could see inside the theater today maybe?"

Katerina pushed the confusion down into her stomach and nodded. Christine grinned, a sweet dazzling smile, and Katerina suddenly found that even while wearing her best dress she suddenly felt very plain.

"I would be happy to oblige you Madame."

And then go hang myself.

* * *

She was in a terribly sour mood and he wasn't sure he entirely understood what she was prattling on about. 

"Katerina, slow down, you're talking in riddles again."

Erik looked up from the drawings he was working on and found Katerina sitting on the divan twisting a handkerchief between her hands with the same look she used to get when she lost the words to say anything. He hadn't seen her get that look since they had purchased the theater.

Now she was fiddling with the ruffle on her skirt. It was a beautiful dress of cranberry red. It had to be the most daring thing she had purchased since he had begun to pay her for managing the theater. She had refused at first but he had insisted. He had wanted her to buy nice things for herself. He had wanted her to be happy, so his puzzlement grew as he saw anger and hurt flash across her face for almost an instant.

"I'm sorry, but you didn't tell me you were going to invite _her_."

Erik swallowed, "Her, who, Katerina?"

"The Daae woman! She was here at the theater, I just spent the last hour showing her around and listening to her endless sighs and memories! Her husband just came to collect her for supper. They are attending the bal tomorrow night."

Erik felt the room spin around him for a second until it slid back into place.

"Christine was here?"

"What did I just tell you? Yes, she was."

"You invited her?"

Katerina slowly shook her head, "No, I thought you did."

Erik blinked, "Katerina, I had nothing to do with your invitations."

Her anger slid into confusion, "I didn't invite her because of you. You asked that no one from six years ago be invited. But the woman had an invitation, so I simply assumed that you…"

"I did not invite her to the masque Katerina."

The waves of panic doubled in him. Christine would be in the theater. She would return and she would bring that foolhardy Adonis with her. He pressed his hands to his face. How in hades had this happened?

He felt Katerina's hands on his shoulders, "I am sorry, I can postpone the bal until we figure this out."

"Non, Mon petite, you shall have your bal. My discomfort cannot interfere with the workings of the theater."

He felt her hands smooth his hair, "I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable."

"Well, we have no choice in this matter. The Vicomtè and his wife will be attending your bal."

"It is only for one night."

"Yes, but you must go to your papery, to see the guest list that they received."

He dropped his hands as Katerina sighed, "Perhaps someone there did it?"

"I am not too concerned with the invitation of the Changy's. I just wonder that if _they_ were invited without our knowledge what other unexpected guests are going to attend your bal tomorrow evening."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, Christine and Raoul are going to feature in this story. I don't terribly condone character bashing but it should prove to be some entertaining characterization for Katerina.**


	11. II La Bal Masque

**A/N: I own not the Phantom and his trappings.**

**Oooers, this one gets good. And, yes a masquerade, only because it fits in so well with the theme of the Phantom. I don't know how any writer can resist. **

* * *

Katerina looked at herself in the gilded mirror. She had changed in the dressing room so that she could avoid Erik. She didn't know why she was doing that, maybe because if she saw him she would beg him to attend. She wanted all the fantasies that were in her heart to come true. Now, none of that would happen, not with Madame DeChangy and her husband frilling about. No, she couldn't ask him to come, though a feeling had begun to burn deep in the pit of her stomach, the thought that he would attend, but not for her.

She took one more look at herself and her silly costume and left the room in a powdered huff. The bal was in less than an hour and much work was still to be done.

* * *

He watched the guests arrive from the rooftop. His bravery was leaving him as they arrived. He kept wondering which little speck of humanity was _her_. The thought of her attending frightened him, and on top of everything it seemed that everywhere he went Katerina was not to be found. He closed his eyes and breathed in the night air. He missed Katerina; he missed her laughter and her comfort. He could feel whatever it was between them straining like an over tightened piano wire.

Erik shook his head and leapt down from the gargoyle he had been perched upon. He had taken a chance once and it had scarred him like everything else in his life had. Yet he could not give in to such fear, he would never change, never move on, never truly live, and that, perhaps, he feared just a little more than anything else in the world.

The front hall and the adjoining salons were already crowded with people. Erik smirked to spot more than one 'phantom' among the noblemen that littered the floor. He could hear music begin in the adjoining room and shook his head. Katerina still had not found her soprano for the first show. They also still needed a ballet instructor, along with half of the chorus, and at least three more seamstresses. He was not even going to think about how Katerina was going to land a patron for the theater. She would have to or else Erik's wealth to support the theater would soon run out.

He closed his eyes. Non, non, tonight was a celebration, to celebrate their victories, to celebrate their home. Erik paused in the shadows for only a moment before stepping into the gay light of the front hall. People swirled around him and couples laughed gaily. He was overcome by a sudden sense of agoraphobia. Swiftly he breathed, if Katerina could do it, so could he. That thought still didn't stop him from snatching a glass of champagne off a tray and downing it in one swallow. He left the glass on the table and began to search through the crowd.

Then he froze. Christine, all alone. She was standing by a banquet table, her eyes roving the throng of dancers. She was still a vision, clad in white airy tulle that seemed the flow with her as she swayed to the music. Her brown hair hung loose around her face making her seem all the more petite. It wasn't until she had leaned over to answer a question of a server that he spotted the small feathered wings sewn onto the back of the dress. She had come dressed as an angel. He squeezed his eyes closed, barring himself from the hideous urge to approach her.

Quickly, he turned and started up the stairs. A familiar laugh greeted his ears. Katerina.

He spotted her at the top of the stairs speaking to a tall man dressed as some sort of reptile. She was eye-catching to say the least. Her dark hair pulled up on top of her head while clad in a midnight blue gown that was fetchingly low cut and swirled around her hips. The entire dress was accented by peacock feathers. Layers and layers of them formed a bustle that led to a small train behind her. They were tucked in her hair and embellished the elbow length gloves she wore. To complete the costume she held, dangling from a jewel green ribbon, a porcelain mask that ended in a bird's beak. The feathers glittered like no jewels ever could.

Still he smiled and thought instead of his mouse in her black work dress, yelling orders or looking at him tenderly across his desk. Poor thing, she looked completely bored out of her mind. Let him not see if he could liven the evening up for her.

So help her she was about to strangle this man. There were so many people, part of her just wanted to run back up to her room and shut herself in with the new watercolour set that she had bought that morning. Suddenly her hand was taken from her and she turned to see the stranger that kissed it.

"Good evening Madame Durand."

Her heart skipped a beat. Erik! He had come! She noticed that he was wearing his best suit with the dark blue Spanish style vest that she had picked out for him a month ago, he had kept the white half mask, blending in seamlessly with the other 'phantoms' that had attended.

She smiled and felt herself blush like a schoolgirl.

"Monsieur Destler, I was just telling Monsieur Reyes about you."

"Nothing too bad I hope," He smirked, knowing that she was making things up again.

"Yes, he said is it quite rare for a theater to have a personal composer that lives on premise."

"I don't understand why not, more theaters would be successful if they showcased original music. Of course some composers should not be showcased."

He was absolutely charming

Katerina smiled, "I know, I was telling him how lucky I was to have you."

The words had just slipped out and she saw Erik's face change for almost an instant.

"I was wondering, Madame Durand if you would honor me with a dance."

"Why Monsieur," she grinned, "your offer honors _me_."

Her heart lit up like a sunrise when he smiled back at her.

* * *

"Perhaps that one is him, oh no, I bet it that chubby one over there!"

"Raoul, hush," Christine glared playfully at her husband over her champagne.

He sighed, "I am just trying to make you smile; you've been a very upset angel all night."

"I suppose we should not have come, at least we are not being mobbed by tourists."

Raoul chuckled and nodded, "thank providence for small favors. Now, do you see this Madame Durand anywhere?"

Christine frowned and looked around for the smaller woman, "No, not yet, you would think that she would be easy to find… Ah! There! Dancing."

Her husband watched the peacock lit woman for a few moments, "she seems rather harmless to me, but I have heard stories from her creditors."

Christine smiled, "She was rather polite to me yesterday."

"Do you recognize who she's dancing with?"

Christine shrugged, "Another phantom, I suppose, they are all getting harder and harder to tell apart as the night wears on."

Raoul placed his hand on the small of her back, "Are you all right? You only need only to say the word and we shall return to the hotel."

Christine shook her head, "Non, I am fine. Let us just enjoy ourselves."

* * *

Erik knew that he was grinning like a fool. Katerina was laughing as the dance ended.

"Ah, no more, I fear I shall faint."

"Then a brief reprieve my lady."

He led her to a corner of the salon by one of the open windows that and let her recover in the warm night air. He waited until she caught her breath and beamed at him.

He grinned, "You must be careful, you are a married woman and I appear to be your faithful composer. What will people say?"

"Posh to what people say, I am just happy you're here," she said, her eyes flickered to the floor, "I wanted to apologize to you."

"For what, Mon petite?"

"For not considering your feelings about this phantom business, and for being a terrible friend. I did not even realize until you saw the mural."

"I thought I composed myself rather well."

"You went as white as your mask."

He smiled at her. He never in his life had anyone apologize to him in earnest. Apologies that reached his ears were usually tinted with fear. She was sincerely afraid that she had hurt him, and how could he disappoint this little bird before him?

"I forgive you Mon petite, but I must ask that you speak to me more often of your plans."

She nodded in the shy way of his Katerina, not of Madame Durand.

"Come with me to the garden," His words had slipped out suddenly and almost entirely on their own.

She nodded and took his arm that he offered. They walked slowly through the gardens that she had seen planted on the west side of the theater in a small alcove. Her roses were blooming and their fragrance filled the night air. Erik felt a little giddy as she leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked. But that could be the champagne, or perhaps just her eyes. They came to a stop by a little stone bench under a cherry tree.

"It is a beautiful night," Katerina remarked, "the moon is so full and bright."

"Full moons are supposed to bring madness."

"Ah, then this can be explained, I love you."

Her words struck him suddenly, like a particularly beautiful aria or a crescendo humming through the air. She stared beyond the leaves and at the moon that cast churning shadows on her face.

"I do love you, Erik. I have for a long time, but I have been so afraid you would not accept me. I was so afraid that I would lose you to something in your past that I had no control over. I tried so hard with this theater, trying to make a home for you, for us. I bit my tongue for fear of losing you but I could not any longer. I spoke to the Daae woman and the entire time she spoke of you as if you had been some fevered dream. Some wisp of smoke that could never truly be loved. It scared me, to think that she thought of you so. She had only known you as a ghost but I have only known you as a man. I-I am saying too much now, and you have gone so quiet. Erik, I could not hold it in any longer, Christine hurt you and I have vowed that I would never make that mistake."

He stayed silent for a moment for as her words fell apart and only the meaning remained.

_I love you…_

_I love as a woman loves a man…_

_I love who you have become not your ghost…_

He heard her breathing in the darkness. They were both uncertain of this dance. She was so afraid, as afraid as he was.

"I-I bought you something," the words sounded so silly after her confession.

Slowly he removed the ring from his pocket and took her hand.

"I bought this months ago but never found the right time to give it to you."

He saw her stare at the glittering ring he had laid in the palm of her hand.

"I wanted you to have a proper ring, a-a proper marriage."

"Erik?" her movements were slow, as if she feared she might wake from a dream.

He continued over the thunderous sound of his heart beating in his chest, "I do not want you to pretend anymore. Katerina, I want you by my side. I want you to share this home we have made. It would… honor me… if…"

Katerina gently smiled and placed her mothers ring on the hand that it belonged and slipped his ring into its place.

"Erik, we shall no longer speak of honor, instead let us speak of love."

She rose and kissed him as gently as the wind but with a fire he had never known from her. He wrapped his arms around her in the dappled moonlight and found a joy in the darkness that he had never known.

* * *

In their bliss they did not see the figure watching them from the corner of the Opera Fantome. They did not see him fade into the shadows as a ghost, and they did not hear his low satisfied laughter.

* * *

**I'd love to hear a few reviews on this before I start the next chapter. What is it exactly that newly engaged people do? They never cover that in the romance novels.**


	12. II Letters Unsigned

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera and I am running out of clever things to say in my disclaimers.**

**Probably my last update until after the Chrismassy! So I hope you enjoy, please, please tell me if you like the direction the story has turned. This chapter is a little less romancie than the previous ones and some of the chapters following are going to be like that too. But I think it will be highly worth it for the story.**

**Did you like the fact that Raoul and Christine were introduced? I am trying to not make them cardboard characters but Katerina is so pissed at both of them it's kinda rubbing off.**

**Hee, so here it is.**

* * *

The theater was on edge, the actors paused and the musicians skipped notes. Madame Durand was _smiling_. Not only that but she had been humming arias all morning. The members of the theater, used to predicting disaster and chaos when she entered a room, were quite astonished as she simply passed by without saying a word. Simply nodding and going down the list of tasks as a bewildered Giovanni followed in her wake. 

They finally came to a realization.

The bal had gone well.

Katerina went to check on her roses when she sent Giovanni out to the front hall to check the queue and see if there were any letters concerning auditions for a leading soprano. So far they had gone terrible. Even the ones that showed a barest hint of talent Erik just shook his head. They did not have a voice teacher and until they did he was not going to write for an untested voice. Katerina sighed; it would be too much to ask him to teach another girl. Though the thought had crossed her mind, still, the look he had given her barred that option.

"You would think there would be more women out there…"

"Madame?" Giovanni said as he came up the stairs.

"Ah, non Gio, I was just thinking out loud."

The little one nodded and tried to make sense of his own scrawling letters. He had been improving with his writings in the last few months. He was a very smart boy; he had just been neglected for so long. Katerina smiled at his tousled blonde hair and his little furrowed brow.

"Can you read it Gio?"

"I could yesterday."

"Do you remember what happened yesterday?"

Her thought for a second and then nodded, "It was before the masque and you said that you needed to remember to place an ad for a ballet instructor and to renew the ad for a soprano."

"So what does your writing say?"

He pondered for a bit and then smiled, "I spelled instructor wrong."

"Let us hear it the correct way."

Gio nodded and closed his eyes, "I-n-s-t-r—u-c-t-o-r."

"Brilliant."

He grinned and handed her the letters from the queue.

She smiled as he sat down on the steps beside her. He was very discreet for an eight year old. First, helping her move the boxes into Erik's study without question and then, a week before the masque, he had scratched on the door and found it open. He had seen her and Erik talking. Gio had just bowed to Erik and relayed his message to Katerina. When she had asked him about it he told her that he was raised to not meddle with grown ups.

But his eyes had sparkled, "Madame Durand, he is the real phantom, is he not?"

Katerina had just nodded at the boy, "Yes and this is his opera house, whoever lives under this roof is protected by him."

"Others say he is dangerous."

"All men are dangerous when they are pushed to their end. The real phantom would never hurt you Giovanni, do you believe me?"

He had nodded at once, "I do, Madame."

Then the matter had been settled for the boy and Katerina had decided that she liked children.

_Children_

She swallowed and glanced down at the ring upon her finger. Non, that thought would wait for another time. She tore through the letters from the queue, letters from artisans thanking her for business. A request from a Countess DuManchard for tickets to the first show, she would have to put that with the countless other request letters in her desk. Finally she came to a smaller envelope; she flipped it over and blinked.

A skull imprint in a red wax seal.

What an odd seal to use on a letter. Swiftly she broke it and pulled out the small slip of paper inside. There was only one sentence on the parchment in long scratching cursive.

_I will have my revenge upon you all…_

Katerina blinked; what in God's name?

"Madame Durand!"

An angry voice filled the hall and Giovanni jumped up.

A man with rich blonde hair in a fine suit was marching up the front steps. Anger shone in his blue eyes.

"Madame! Do you have anything to do with this?"

He held up… a letter.

Katerina smiled and held hers up as well.

"Shall I hazard as to what it says? Perhaps something akin to revenge?"

The anger left his eyes immediately, "You got one as well?"

Katerina nodded, "It was left in the queue this morning. And you are Monsieur?"

"I am the Vicomte De Changy," he bowed before her and Katerina forced a slight smiled upon her face.

"Ah, Christine's husband. May I see your letter?"

He obliged and Katerina held the notes in her hands, "They are exactly alike, even the handwriting is the same."

"I had thought…"

"You had thought perhaps a cruel joke from a thoughtless woman?"

He blushed suddenly and Katerina grinned at his embarrassment.

"You don't need to be shy; I know precisely what it is that people outside this theater think of me."

"That you are earning money on a tragedy."

"Who's tragedy? Yours Monsieur? Your pretty wife's? Or perhaps the phantom himself? It is in the past now and needs to be forgotten."

"Which is what I would have kindly liked to do until that letter arrived at our hotel and sent my wife into a faint."

"Perhaps she does not have such a good constitution. A woman should not faint at the sight of paper and ink."

The anger returned to his eyes, she was irritating him. Good.

"If you knew anything of those horrors that occurred those years ago Madam you would not be as quick to judge."

Katerina wanted to slap him.

To think that this sniveling Vicomte blamed Erik for everything! Katerina knew that a good deal of it was her fiancés fault but the anger still burned fresh in the Vicomte's eyes as if the events had happened only yesterday. Even her love deserved some forgiveness for his actions after all this time.

"Madam?"

A slender girl with long red hair stood in the doorway to the house, a ballerina by the looks of her build. She looked nervous and Katerina knew that she had never once been approached by the chorus before. The girl clutched several letters and Katerina cursed under her breath.

"Madame, we have received these, apparently everyone that works in the theater got one."

She held the letters out and Katerina saw the same looping handwriting and the same cryptic words.

_I will have my revenge upon you all…_

Katerina's mood to tease the Vicomte faded away, "What is your name girl?"

"Babette."

"You say that everyone received a letter?"

The girl nodded, "All the ballerinas did along with the stage hands and even Monsieur Dominic."

Merde.

"I see, we are getting to the bottom of this foul joke. It is nothing to be worried about; we will see the perpetrators caught."

Babette stood for a second more before her face broke into relief, "Thank you Madam, I will tell the others."

Katerina watched the girl jog swiftly back to the stage and when she turned back the Vicomte was staring pointedly at her.

"A joke you say? Or perhaps the opera ghost has returned."

Katerina returned his gaze, "I suppose you are going to give me tips as to how I am to properly dispose of said ghost?"

"This theater should not be open."

Katerina turned and started through the house doors.

"Madame Durand, I ask you to listen to me!"

She walked swiftly ignoring the Vicomte and his hurried steps behind her.

"If this is not a joke everyone is in danger!"

Katerina whirled on him, "Vicomte, I will ask that you keep your voice down or I shall have you thrown out of my theater."

He stopped and met her eyes, "We must talk Madame Durand."

"Fine, only for a few moments and then you will leave."

"Madame."

"I will not hesitate to call the gendarmes on you. I will not hesitate a second so you will behave civilly."

He followed her, quietly now, up the stairs back stage to her office. Gio ran after them both with a worried look on his face.

Katerina was fuming, whoever had the gall to send these notes to her crew and the Changy's would be shot if she found them. She reached the end of the hall and made to yank the door to her office open.

Oddly, it suddenly exploded outward when she barely turned the knob.

Katerina blinked.

"Madam Durand!"

The Vicomte was yelling again and it seemed that she was buried in a snow bank. Except it was not cold and some of it seemed to be poking her in the neck. With a shock she sat up.

The Vicomte was standing knee deep against the wall in a throng of letters. Giovanni was standing, wide-eyed, at the end of the hall where the pile had slid to an end.

Katerina stared into her office, she could make out the divan and the desk but the ottoman and her stool were no where to be seen, buried in a mess of carefully sealed letters. After her surprise had subsided she angrily tossed the letters aside in an effort to stand up. After a long angry moment she took the Vicomte's hand that he offered. Together they stood there and stared at the impossible feat that had taken over her space.

"I believe he wants to make sure you get his message."

She blinked and looked at the Vicomte; she hadn't noticed before that they were sharing the same look of dread.

* * *

**Shorter than the last I know, but my mom is off making Mexican food for Christmas eve dinner and that's totally distraction.**


	13. II The Phantom

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters you can find in it. **

**Every time I make a decision in the story I'm like 'Ah, this will be the one that stops them from reading.' I keep trying to figure out what's original and what's cliché, but I don't have the time to read 5000+ fanfictions. Sigh, I just hope you guys like it. Thank you for the wonderful reviews, please review, I love hearing ways I can improve!

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**

Erik stood in the doorway of Katerina's darkened room. She was curled up in the center of the swan bed. She hadn't even taken her dress off. He supposed it had been a very long day for her, a very long day for both of them.

Quietly he lifted her and slipped off her dress and slippers until she lay; curled up still, in her nothing but her petticoat and messy braid. He tossed the dress over a chair and made his way, silently, out into the hallway.

The theater was quiet and dark but he found his way easily. Katerina's office was still open although all the letters had been cleaned out. He stared at the sacks of useless paper shoved into a corner by a bookcase. Katerina said that she would burn them tomorrow. Erik sat on the divan and closed his eyes.

Who was it that tormented them? Who brought chaos now as he had so many years ago? Katerina had come in and tossed a handful of letters onto his desk and told him to go look at her office. That of course had dismissed the fact that it could be a joke. Someone went through great pains to fill the room with letters. Erik had noticed that the grate had been removed from the ceiling. Whoever had done this had filtered the letters in from the roof.

After a moment Erik frowned and quickly stood. He marched down the hallway and pushed open the secret door to the catacombs.

"Merde!"

Erik stood in his lair. Ransacked! All of the rooms had been torn apart by some devil unbeknownst to him. Papers were missing; clothing was torn and strewn about. He touched the remains of the little model of the theater. How could he have been so stupid? He hadn't returned to his lair since he had moved with Katerina upstairs into the secret rooms she had built for him in the main part of the house. He just… He hadn't felt a need to return. Why should he venture below again when he could live with sunshine? With roses and with Katerina? His Katerina…

He had seen the look in her eyes, trying to tell herself that this would all be fine, that her home and life would run smoothly again. Erik wondered blindly if that could be true. Someone was here, someone even he did not see.

Revenge? Revenge on whom? Revenge on Katerina, for opening the theater once more? Erik shook his head, he couldn't ask her to leave and he most certainly could not tell the police. He didn't have the luxury like a normal man. He was the only defense that his theater had from a madman…

For a brief second he mused as to how the Vicomte DeChangy must have felt. Then he shook his head with a small grin. The boy had emerged victorious after all, hadn't he?

Erik made his way back up the stairs to his rooms. He needed a plan; he needed to know exactly who had the means and the motive. He sighed at the number of people that it could be. Mayhap it could wait until the morning. He pushed open the door to his study and felt his heart freeze in his chest.

A familiar shape hung from the ceiling, casting its ominous shadow in the moonlight.

A noose.

With a porcelain mask, identical to his, tied to the knot.

He fumbled quickly for Katerina's room as a scream filled the air. He threw the door open and saw a shadow disappear through her window, the same noose hanging from the light fixture, still swinging.

"Erik!" She was in the corner of her bed, eyes wide with fear.

Erik ran to the window and saw… nothing.

Nothing but a seven story drop, he twisted his head to look up and saw only the stars and moon along with the edge of the rooftop.

"Are you hurt?"

He ran to her bedside and found her in his arms in a heartbeat.

"I thought he was you, I thought…" she gasped into his chest and he held her tightly, "he wears a mask, but it was different, in the half light I thought it was you. It wasn't until he stepped forward, he laughed Erik, oh God, his eyes… they weren't human…"

"Hush, you are safe, he is gone. Katerina, he is gone."

He rocked her gently as her babbling slowed and ceased. She buried her face in his shoulder until her shuddering eased.

"Oh, Erik, he can't do this, not here, not in our home."

"Be calm my love, I will not let him hurt you."

She stayed in his arms, silent, for what felt like an hour. Erik leaned against the headboard of the swan bed and held her slender form against him. How could he have been so careless? He had been cocky; he had thought that this ghost would not strike again so soon after the letters. He had made the mistake of thinking that the ghost would act like he did. He looked down at the dark crown of Katerina's hair. It was a mistake that could have cost him dearly. What if the monster had attacked her or taken her? He wouldn't have known, wouldn't have heard anything.

Katerina sat up suddenly and he looked at her tearstained face. She smiled at him. Smiled! After all that had happened!

"One of us has to close that window," she whispered.

Erik laughed and hugged her to him tightly.

"You're too practical for your own good Madame."

Katerina sniffed, "I am not a Madame yet Erik; it's just pretend."

"I will change that."

* * *

Katerina stood, wishing she could stay but she was freezing and she was never going to get any sleep with that horrible thing hanging in her room. She shut the window as Erik went and lit a gas lamp. Katerina swallowed and grabbed her dressing gown as Erik pulled on the noose. Katerina turned as she saw a piece of it come off. She blinked for a moment until she realized that Erik was holding her favorite black ribbon. 

"It was twisted around the rope," he said, almost absently as if his mind were elsewhere.

Katerina took a deep breath as she took it from his hand, and suddenly banging filled the air.

"Madame Durand!"

Katerina spun around quickly, "Giovanni?"

She rushed to the door to see her small assistant, bleary eyed and in his night clothes.

"Madame, the Vicomte and his wife are here. They were knocking on the front door and woke up some of the maids."

Katerina turned towards Erik and he nodded swiftly and made his way to his rooms.

The pair was standing at the bottom of the stairs in the front hall. The Vicomte still had the same look of dread and anger in his eyes. His wife clutched fearfully to his arm, her pretty face pale and lined with worry.

They looked as harried as she and Erik did. Katerina felt her heart drop when she saw that the Vicomte had a bundle of rope under his arm.

"Monsieur, Madam, I will see you in my quarters."

Christine started at the sound of Katerina's voice and the Vicomte looked up at her with wide eyes before quickly mounting the stairs after her quickly disappearing form.

Katerina said nothing; she just quickly led the pair to her room.

"Madame Durand if I didn't know any better I would say that you were expecting us."

Katerina turned and merely grinned at the Vicomte's remark as she pushed her door open. The looks on their faces were identical.

"It seems I was Vicomte, now if you would be so kind as to discuss this where my crew will not hear."

The pair shuffled into her room as Katerina shut the door and yanked the noose from its place.

"So I see we did not just share letters," Christine's voice was quiet and musical.

Katerina perched on the edge of her night stand, "You are correct Madame."

"Was anything on yours?" the Vicomte asked staring at the rope that dangled from Katerina's white-knuckled hand.

"My favorite hair ribbon was twisted around it."

He nodded, "He used Christine's earrings to pin my family crest to the knot of the one we found in our bedroom."

Katerina fought the waves of anger and disgust that rose in her, "I woke to see him go out the window."

"You're not hurt I trust?"

The concern in the Vicomtes voice startled her for an instant but she dismissed it.

"I am fine. I believe he was just trying to scare us. Tomorrow I will call the police and inform them of this."

"_You are lying again Mademoiselle_."

The three jumped as the deep voice cut through the silence of the room. Katerina gasped. She wanted to run, she wanted Erik.

"Show yourself!" the Vicomte yelled.

"_Non, non, not yet Monsieur, in due time you shall see what you will grow to fear._"

Katerina stood from the desk, "You are a monster and I shall have the authorities drag you away."

"_Mademoiselle, you would do nothing that would harm your love. Your Erik is a wanted man and could be caught easier than I._"

"Erik?" The Vicomte asked.

Katerina shuddered against the helplessness that suddenly struck her.

"_You would not want that to happen now, would you Mademoiselle?_"

"Leave her be."

The words burned with anger and Katerina's head snapped up.

"Erik," she breathed.

She saw the fear rise in the couple by the door as their eyes locked onto the figure in the doorway.

"_I thought you might be listening, do you fancy yourself a white knight now, you murderer? Is your little artiste going to save your blackened soul?_"

"You will leave her out of this! If you have a fight let it be with me!"

"_Non, I will see you suffer first. I will see you all suffer._"

The laughter thundered into the room and then faded into silence.

Katerina's vision blurred with tears.

* * *

Christine gripped Raoul's hand fearfully. It was him, the angel of music, standing in the doorway so angry. She held Raoul in place; she didn't understand what was going on. The phantom was attacking people again but it wasn't… 

Raoul's breathing was ragged as Christine's head cleared. The white mask still glittered in the lamplight. Just like in her dreams, and her nightmares. Still, he seemed more human now than she remembered him. She instinctively flinched as he crossed the room, but he went to Madame Durand. He took her in his arms and she saw him gently stroke her hair.

Suddenly she understood, "Madame, there is no Monsieur Durand, is there?"

The woman looked up with red rimmed eyes, past the figure that held her and slowly shook her head.

"No, I am not wed."

Slowly she felt her husband straighten beside her.

"I had truly thought you dead."

"I am afraid I disappoint you, Vicomte."

The loathing still echoed in their voices. Christine tightened her grip on Raoul's hand.

"You are the owner of the theater?"

"It was always mine."

Katerina chuckled dryly.

He looked down at her, with narrowed eyes,

"Oh, so you think that is funny?"

Christine was frightened for a moment until she detected the slight tone in his voice.

Madame Durand's chuckle turned into a giggle. He was teasing her!

Christine felt Raoul's body ease and she exchanged glances with her husband. He looked as bemused as she did. Christine tried to remember the phantom, the angel of music as he had appeared to her. Surely the vision that had once appeared to her was not this man before her. The man in rumpled clothing that held Madame Durand, trying to make smile so she didn't cry.

"I-I am afraid I do not understand this," Raoul's voice was more civil now as he addressed the pair.

Madame Durand stood still keeping her hand locked with this Erik's.

"Perhaps, if we can keep our heads level it can be explained."

"Level?" Christine asked.

The man turned to face the pair and Christine swallowed as his mask came into full view, "I think that as long as your husband does not try to run me through with a sword we shall not have a problem."

Christine swallowed and looked up at Raoul. He looked at her for an instant before nodding his head.

"It is three-thirty in the morning Monsieur, I want to know what is going on, if I have any desire to run you through I shall be more than happy to wait until tomorrow at the least."

* * *

**Taa Daa! Sigh, how fluffy Raoul is being in that last line...**


	14. II Alliances Forged

**A/N: This author does not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters.**

**Well, I wrote myself into a _stunning_ corner. Had to sit there and frown at it for a bit. I'm trying not to take things to quickly but the story is falling into place much more rapidly than I am used to.**

**Please review! I got 1510 hits as of 12/28 and I would be lucky if just a few of you dropped me a line to let me know how I was doing. I'll confess, I used to write all the time before college started and this is my first attempt in three years. And now with much ado…

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Raoul stood, gingerly, as to not wake Christine. They had spent most of the night talking to Katerina and Erik. The situation was clear now but that did not mean he was comfortable with it. The woman was engaged to the phantom? Six years ago he would have laughed. He would have claimed that no one would have any thought to care for the madman. Now, though…

The more he watched them together the more human the evil Mephistopheles from his memory became. He could hear them in the room next door, arguing playfully over tea. He watched his sleeping wife. There was something much more unsettling about this situation though. If Erik had been the phantom six years ago then who was assaulting the theater today? He supposed he wasn't the only on with that question on his mind. They were being threatened, he supposed Christine and he could go to the police but the menacing voice had been right. That left little protection for Katerina and Erik. He knew that Katerina would not abandon the man just to keep herself safe. Raoul sighed, and brushed a lock of Christine's hair from her face.

Swiftly he stood and pushed the door open.

"Goodness Erik, I can make tea at least."

"After your attempt with the soufflé I must insist that you have nothing to do with my meals."

"I don't see how I can mess up tea…"

"Last time you made it, you completely forgot all about it, and I found it cold and bitter."

"Posh, just put more water and sugar in it."

"So I end up with warm sweet water instead of hot tea?"

"Maybe we should have kept the cook."

* * *

Katerina frowned as she mused about her cooking then she blinked as the door to the bedroom swing open.

"Good afternoon, Vicomte."

The man nodded, he was as distant as Erik this morning.

Katerina smiled brightly, "Would you like some tea? I am afraid Erik will have to oblige you since I am not to be trusted around foodstuffs."

She thought she saw the man blink and then nod, "if you would be so kind."

Erik was silent, only because she had scolded him for grumbling constantly. It had started to give her a headache. He returned with tea, Raoul's and his own as Katerina nibbled on a strawberry tart.

"Erik, you said that the grotto lair had been ransacked?"

Katerina saw the Vicomte perk up. Erik had told her the news this morning after they had taken the noose down from his study.

"Yes, most of our things were in disarray, as if he had been looking for something."

"I can't imagine what," Katerina mumbled as she licked a bit of cream from her fingers.

She blinked when she realized that Erik was watching her and that Raoul was watching him. She gently lay down her tart.

"You are both behaving very oddly, I hope you know that."

"It was a very odd night, perhaps it rubbed off," the Vicomte said over his tea.

"Well I sincerely hope it passes."

* * *

Erik smiled at her slightly. He had been watching her eat, licking cream from her slender fingers, and he had suddenly found himself rather upset that the damned Vicomte was in the room. He would have liked very much to just toss Katerina over his shoulder and make his way to the swan bed.

She had slept in his arms last night while Christine and Raoul had taken his room. He knew that he should be worried about this new threat but the memory of the way she had wound her body against him in the night would not leave his mind.

Katerina looked at him with confusion but her eyes glittered. Damned tease, she knew exactly why he was behaving oddly.

The door to the bedroom moved again and Christine poked her head into the room.

"I thought I heard voices," she breathed.

Katerina smiled, "Come join us."

Christine sat on the divan next to Katerina and accepted an apple tart. The four sat in silence. Not quite friends but not quite hating each other any longer. It was Katerina, who spoke first,

"So, I assume today will be filled with plotting?"

Erik nodded slightly as Christine and Raoul took on identical looks of discomfort.

Katerina smiled sweetly all around the room, "Do we have any suggestions?"

Silence.

Finally Erik straightened in his chair, "None of us are safe in this theater. I assume that it is no longer safe in your hotel either. If we are to ally ourselves against this person we need some place…"

"Some place to speak where the walls do not have ears." Raoul finished.

Christine swallowed jerkily and nodded in agreement.

Katerina sipped her tea thoughtfully, "Well, I don't know about you but that can be easily taken care of. I believe that I shall take the Madame here to pack up her hotel and aid me on a few errands and you Erik, can see if the Vicomte will be kind enough to help you clean up a bit here."

"Clean?" Erik asked as he and 'The Vicomte' shared uneasy glances.

"_Downstairs_."

"Of course," Erik nodded as her meaning sunk in.

Katerina had that glittering look as if she had suddenly come to a place in her mind where she knew she would be safe, if only for a moment, the same glittering look that had created Madame Durand. Erik nodded, ignoring the looks from Raoul and Christine. He had spent enough time with Katerina over the years to trust her for an afternoon.

* * *

He watched them leave. They were separating. The ladies to a coach and the gentlemen back to the theater, how entertainingly clever of them. He couldn't possibly keep an eye on both parties. Now the choice was up to him, to join fellow men on an expedition or to give into his sweet weakness and go chasing skirts? He grinned against the warming morning air. Life was full of such temptingly delightful decisions.

* * *

Katerina waited until the coach had rattled down the streets for a few minutes before regarding the woman in the seat before her.

"Smile girl, you look like you've been slapped by a demon."

Christine looked up and blinked for a moment, "Madame Durand! You language…"

"Oh enough of that, call me Katerina. Durand isn't my real name and neither is it Erik's, so I have no care for it."

"I am sorry, I am just a little shaken."

"I understand of course, but now is the time for work. It's the time to get our ducks in a row, as my mother used to say. There isn't any use if you fall apart crying. If you do then you have let this bastard win already, and the time for that decision is not at hand yet."

Katerina watched her nod and gather herself, her brown ringlets curled around her face like a mess halo. Katerina smiled slightly. Christine was only a year younger than she was. Why then did the woman seem like a child to her?

Christine swallowed, "Katerina, aren't you scared?"

Katerina stared out the window of the coach.

"Madame, I am terrified."

* * *

"I don't understand what the hell is going on!"

Erik ignored Raoul for a few more seconds as he slipped his hand behind a pillar and twitched the small lever that was hidden from sight.

"I would think it obvious. The phantom that we have found ourselves up against has been living in this theater, and no one knows the hidden places of the theater better than I."

The hidden door swung open and a cool rush of air filled the study.

Raoul frowned, "Just how many passages are there?"

"Including the two Katerina had built? Twenty-five."

"God, this is going to take forever."

"Then we must start now, Katerina expects us to be done by the time she returns."

"You have got to be joking?"

Erik felt a ghost of a smile cross his features, "While I have an exquisite sense of humor I fear that Katerina does not."

They walked silently into the dark passage, Erik moving quickly like a cat with Raoul trailing behind him, stumbling here and there in the dark.

Finally they reached the upturned lair.

"Not even the mob left it this bad," Raoul remarked as Erik lit a candelabra.

Erik shrugged, "All the important things had been removed."

Raoul edged silently around the wreckage of the place that had haunted his dreams. Everything had changed now; there was no fear when dreaming was replaced by cold dank reality. He watched Erik hiss at a pile of charred papers. The man seemed to be grumbling over something. A small part of Raoul wanted to smile; he wanted to gloat, as if to say 'See? You are getting what you deserve, a murder being plagued by madman. The tables have turned and you don't like it very much, do you?' But he bit his tongue, yes; it was true that now Erik knew how Raoul had felt those years ago. Of course it also meant that Raoul knew what Erik was going through as well.

He hadn't expected to ever feel sympathy for the man that had made his life and love a living hell for months. Still, he had seen the way the man held Katerina. Raoul knew the urge to comfort, to protect. Apparently in the time that had passed this monster had learned how. He watched Erik stand and kick aside a charred bit of wood.

"There isn't a lot left here. I can't tell if anything's been taken since we were moving at the time and it's been…"

Raoul watched him paused and then slightly smile to himself, "Well, it's been about six months since I was in this place."

"I thought the phantom did not leave his lair."

Erik sighed and pushed a curtain out of the way as he made his way to a new room, "Maybe the phantom didn't but Erik sure as hell was not going to argue with Katerina."

"Women do that sometimes," Raoul mused.

"So I have been learning, fickle creatures."

"But that is their best trait."

"You'd talk about your wife that way?"

Raoul grinned slightly, "All I was saying…"

"I am not your boyhood friend, and I can still throttle you, Vicomte. Watch your tongue."

"Of course sir."

Raoul nodded, so the scars still smarted despite everything.

* * *

"You are seeing things!"

Christine clutched fearfully at the curtains as Katerina scolded her.

"Christine! There is no one outside the window, we are two stories up!"

"But he attacked your room and Erik said you were up seven stories."

"I'm sure he came in from the hall like a normal person before making his daring escape, now stop seeing faces in every shadow and get on with your packing."

Christine frowned and went back to pile of clothes on her bed. She had seen _something_. Whether it was a shadow or a phantom she couldn't be sure. At least Katerina seemed capable of taking on an attacker. Or at least at pretending she could. It gave Christine some confidence. She wondered how Raoul was getting along with Erik. Katerina had told the both to behave _or else_. While it seemed that perhaps Erik knew what _or else_ entailed Raoul and she were just going to have to wonder.

Christine noticed Katerina gently smooth a bit of lace with her fingers. She seemed to be admiring one of Christine's gowns.

"Raoul had that made for me for my birthday."

Katerina looked up as if she had been startled; Christine smiled as the normally strong woman blushed.

"I-it's very pretty."

Christine had changed into a wispy pastel pink frock for summer. The pale white lace hung dreamily from her wrists and spilled forth from her low cut bodice. Her hair also hung in loose billowing curls. She watched Katerina from across the bed.

Katerina was wearing a dress that was so high cut that she couldn't have been comfortable for the warmth of the day. It looked black but outside in the daylight Christine had seen that it was a very, very dark shade of green. The sleeves went all the way to her wrists and ended in a severe cuff. Also her dark hair was pulled up from her face in a tight chignon that was circled in black ribbon. Not a stray hair escaped that ribbon.

Christine smiled, "Don't you have any summer dresses, Katerina?"

Katerina frowned and looked back down at the lace, "The dress I am wearing is fine. I don't see any difference as long as it's functional."

Christine raised an eyebrow and the blush across Katerina's face burned brighter.

"Look, I'm a painter and if I wear a-anything that fine it just gets ruined. So it's not a good idea… I mean… Well, what I want to say is…"

Katerina lapsed into silence with a burning look in her eyes.

Christine blinked. She hadn't expected that the woman's composure was so false. Suddenly Christine realized that she was no longer looking at Madame Durand but at _Katerina_. Katerina, who shyly stood off to the side of the bed and fingered the fine lace that edged a gossamer blue gown.

"I am not used to having fine things. I think that Erik may be more used to them than I."

"I see," Christine said, "I didn't mean to offend you in any way."

"I'm fine, I just don't normally speak to… women."

"Other women you mean?"

Katerina nodded, "My mother died when I was young and it was just my father and my brothers. There wasn't much talk of frocks and lace in my house."

Christine felt a pang of sympathy for the woman who suddenly looked like just another girl, longing for pretty things and feminine trappings.

A crash sounded from outside the door.

Katerina stiffened suddenly and went for the door.

"Katerina!"

"Hush!"

Slowly Katerina pushed open the door. Christine couldn't see into the room but Katerina's eyes narrowed and she paused in opening the door.

"Christine," she said her voice low, "finish packing. Now."

The door shut behind Katerina and Christine found herself alone.

* * *

Erik jerked on the metal wheel that was supposed to open the door at the end of the corridor. He and Raoul had finished searching the lair and some of the adjoining corridors in relative silence.

"Here, maybe if we do it together."

Erik stayed silent as Raoul reached over and they both gripped the wheel. Erik gritted his teeth more at the discomforting closeness than at the strain of turning the rusted wheel. He heard the grinding of metal and the squealing of the hinges as the door opened.

"That wasn't so hard."

Erik ignored the man's cheeky smile and blinked.

"Well, that's never good."

The pair stared down the corridor. Unlike Erik had been expecting, it was brightly lit and seemed almost cheery.

"Perhaps we have found the right place?"

Erik slowly nodded and looked around for anything that seemed to be out of place.

"It looks all right."

"So you say."

Erik rolled his eyes, "I'll go first if you want."

"That wouldn't be very friendly of me."

Erik looked at Raoul, "Take the first step then."

Raoul frowned, "We'll go together."

Both men nodded trying to hide their anxiety.

They walked together silently. Erik frowned, whoever had lit the torches either knew they were coming or expected someone to be in the catacombs. Erik hadn't remembered this passage being this long. Suddenly Raoul stopped.

"Erik…"

"What?"

Raoul slowly inclined his head down. Erik followed his gaze and after a few moments saw the glittering of the trip wire in the torchlight. Raoul's ankle was pressed into it, but not all the way.

Damn it! He should have been paying attention!

"Don't move."

"Wasn't even considering it."

Erik quickly scanned the wall trying to see what sort of mechanism that the wire was connected to.

"Erik!"

He turned suddenly as a shadow rippled out of the dark. Suddenly the air was filled with rope, dangling nooses choked the passage way and he heard a grunt as he fell backwards. There was a grinding click of machinery, Raoul must have moved.

Erik caught sight of the man hanging onto the ropes above a chasm where the floor had once been.

"Hang on!" Erik tossed the rope aside and took a step forward.

"Watch out!"

Erik looked up to see a flash of metal, metal and a mask. The edge of the sword struck him across the face and he heard a cracking noise as the blow resonated through his head. Blood poured down into his right eye and he fumbled for a second as he heard Raoul yelling. There was another flash of silver and he brought up his hand to stop the blow, but it struck true and his mind exploded into red.

* * *

**Aww, poor Erik, I really need to stop being so mean to him.**


	15. II Recurring Nightmares

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters in it.**

**New year's resolution: Be more kind to Erik.**

**Sigh, I'm going to need a new resolution…

* * *

**

Katerina sighed and nodded, "This will do."

The estate agent that had scared the daylights out of her and Christine nodded. He was a portly man and somewhat clumsy.

Christine was on the other side of the sitting room glancing out the window into the small yard below.

"You said it comes fully furnished?" Katerina asked as the gentleman quickly nodded.

"I'll have the papers drawn up but you can start moving in this afternoon."

He seemed somewhat intimidated by her. She smiled, couldn't imagine why. Most likely because she nearly made his ears bleed for knocking over the tea trolley in the foyer. It wasn't his fault but it had scared her as much as it had Christine. Not that Katerina would ever tell.

She looked around the two bedroom flat. It was modest but it would work for their purposes. It was also away from any main streets so Erik would be pleased with that.

"What do you think Christine?"

The woman looked up at her, "I-Its fine. I don't see a problem with it."

"You and your husband can still change your mind about staying the entire season."

Christine swallowed and then smiled sweetly, "I shall not want to miss any of your opera's Madame. Of course we shall stay."

Katerina smiled and bowed her head. Sweet girl, she was rubbing off on her.

It was almost dusk by the time the pair returned to the theater. The flat had been rented and all of Christine's and Raoul's things left there. All that remained was to gather the men and hopefully they could find some peace for a bit.

As Katerina found out that was not going to be.

Raoul was cursing in French when she reached her office. He was also soaked to the bone.

"I know the damned man has a sword somewhere!"

"Raoul! What happened?" Christine asked with wide eyes.

"We ran into a trap, he took Erik."

"Oh no," Katerina breathed, "Where?"

"Somewhere in the tunnels, I couldn't tell you, I'd have to take you."

"Which you will do, quickly."

She saw Raoul hesitate, "I would not have you…"

"I will be going into those tunnels whether you accompany me or not Vicomte. Understand this now and we will have less of an argument later on."

He looked at her again. Then he nodded, "Christine…"

"I'm coming too! I'm not going to let you go alone."

Katerina banged on the side of a bookcase and pulled on the door that opened.

"By god woman, just how many of those are there?"

"They're everywhere, not just tunnels, hiding places as well."

Katerina pulled two swords out of the door and tossed one to Raoul. The other she quickly belted around her waist.

"You know how to fence?" he asked in disbelief.

Katerina drew her sword and held it up so that he could see her initials gleaming on the hilt.

"Erik taught me."

* * *

His head ached and the smell of blood filled the air with a sharp tang. He blinked and tried to move but his shoulder came into contact with something. Something that made the entire space around him clink. He was jammed in a very uncomfortable sitting position, his legs smashed against his body. He moved again and heard the clanks and rattles. 

Suddenly horror crept into his hear. Erik opened his eyes and saw the bars of the cage come into view. In a sudden frantic motion he slammed against the bars in front of him and found them as cold and unforgiving as ever. Sense retuned to him for an instant before he realized that his mask was gone. He reached up and flinched, there was a gash above his right eye. The mask must have shattered when… He could see a shadow walking in slow circles around the cage.

Erik turned as the figured disappeared behind him and then the lash struck him like fire. He must have cried out because he heard the shadow make a tutting noise as the lash stung again. It had slipped easily through the bars without making a noise. The memories began to surface as the burning kiss of the whip seared itself into his back.

The laughing… The music… The fetid smell…

Erik slammed himself against the bars again and felt the whip crack into the bars, inches from his face. He tried to scramble back but found himself crashing into the other side of the cage. Reason began slipping from him as he fought to cover his face and avoid the lash. He was making noises, but not quite words. He tried to shove himself away from the whip but every time he moved he would bang into the bars and the lash would find him.

After what seemed an eternity the lash stopped. Erik panted as his mind twisted with sickness. No, no, no please… No, no…

Suddenly he found the lash around his throat and it yanked him roughly to the bars of the cage. Erik struggled and heard a whimper cut through the air. Was that him crying out?

An almost kind, sympathetic voice cut through the air,

"Terribly sorry Monsieur, the cage must have seemed so much bigger when you were a child."

* * *

Christine held the torch up as they walked. All three of them were silent. Raoul had explained what had happed. How the figure had attack Erik and then dragged him down the hall grinning like a demon. Raoul had fallen into the water but found another way out. Christine swallowed trying to wet her dry throat; it had to have happened hours ago. 

Katerina had gone pale and she hadn't said a word since they had left her office. Raoul was shivering, Christine took a deep breath. She knew that Erik could already be dead. Would he be the first of them? Was that how it was going to happen? They were going to be dragged off one by one? Who would be the last?

Suddenly she stopped and tried to stop shuddering.

She felt gentle hands on her face, "Christine, you can always go back."

Raoul's comforting blue eyes locked with her brown ones and she slowly shook her head and smiled,

"We are past the point of no return."

He smiled down at her and she heard Katerina clear her throat.

"As much as I hate to ruin your moment, does anyone else hear that?"

Christine blinked as she heard the trailing sound, "It sounds like music."

Katerina took the lead and frowned, "It's coming from one of the lower tunnels, the ones that lead to the mirror room."

"The mirror room?" Christine had heard of it from Raoul.

Katerina nodded swiftly, "It used to be the torture chamber."

* * *

Katerina walked quickly and quietly. Just like Erik had taught her. He had taught her so much, if he was… No, she banished the thought from her mind. He couldn't be dead. If his heart were to cease beating so would hers. 

The music was getting louder now. It was jarringly loud, the kind of organ music one would hear at a carnival. Katerina moved down the corridor with the pair trailing behind her. Christine's soft torch lit up the passage and Katerina stopped and pointed down. The three stepped carefully over the trip wire, taking care to lift skirts and keep balance.

Gingerly Katerina pushed the door open a crack. The music doubled in volume and the movement dizzied her for and instant. Bright glaring color swirled through the room, made worse by the mirrors that surrounded the room. Katerina blinked, covered lamps, they were hanging from the ceiling and swinging back and forth with a wild motion. Someone had just spun them, someone was there. After a moment she could make out a dark shape in the center of the room. A tall square shadow that turned into a cage the more she stared at it and then she saw the huddled figure that it contained.

Erik…

* * *

Raoul recognized the cage and took a step forward but Katerina stopped him. 

"Trap," she hissed.

A gloved hand shot through the doorway and grasped her collar.

"Right you are."

"Katerina!"

Then she was gone and Raoul charged into the room. The colors subdued him for and instant before he heard a grunt and Katerina cry out. Raoul slammed his sword into one of the lamps and it came crashing down. There was a moment of pure light before it burned out.

A tall man was dragging Katerina away, her hair had come loose and he had gotten her sword from her. Raoul could see blood on his face and the black mask he wore was slightly off center.

Raoul brought the rest of the lamps down in quick succession until he found himself face to face with this new phantom. The man gave a quick barking laugh as he yanked Katerina up by her hair.

"Drop your sword Vicomte or I will slit her where she stands."

The blades glinted in the half light and Raoul saw Christine's terrified face as she held the torch near the cage in the center of the room.

Raoul nodded and tossed the sword.

Right at Katerina's feet.

In a flash of movement Katerina was free and the phantom held a mass of black hair. Raoul watched her slam the blade into the man's wrist and sink the tip into his shoulder.

He cried out as his weapon tumbled to the ground and he backhanded her so she lost her balance.

Raoul dodged forward and slammed his shoulder into the man's chest. Together they tumbled backwards into a mirror and Raoul felt it shatter behind his back. The man was trying to get a grip on his throat but Raoul was still damp and that was making it harder. The man fought like an animal, Raoul could hear guttural noises as Raoul's fist caught the man in the jaw.

The pair twisted into another mirror and he heard a scream from one of the women. The man had his hands around Raoul's throat. His icy vise-like grip sapped the strength from Raoul and he blinked for an instant.

Suddenly they were moving again as something seemed to have knocked the man off balance.

"Christine, do it now!"

Raoul saw a flash of flame as Katerina's voice cut through the chamber. There she was, his pretty little wife, swinging the torch with all her strength.

It caught the man in the face and Raoul saw his black mask crack under the blow as he tumbled backwards out into the hallway.

He saw the back of Katerina's cloak as she slammed her sword down.

---

Then, very suddenly, it was silent.

---

"Is anyone dead?" Katerina's dry voice broke the quiet.

"I-I'm not," Christine's shaky voice filled the chamber as Raoul sat up and coughed.

He looked out into the hallway and saw Katerina standing before a gaping hole in the floor. So she had hit the trip wire. Her dark hair hung, unfashionably short, around her jaw. After a moment she let the sword she was carrying drop to the ground and she ran to the cage.

* * *

Katerina yanked the pin from the lock and pulled the door to the cage open. Erik was curled into a ball in one of the corners. She could see bloodied slashes in his shirt and bruises on his hands. As Christine stepped up next to her she could see that he was rocking back and forth, ever so slightly, his large hands splayed over his face. 

"Erik…"

Katerina gently reached out and he flinched at her touch. It broke her heart. How did this man know to do this to him? How on earth did he know to put Erik in a cage?

"Please my love," she whispered gently, "It is Katerina, please trust me."

Long moments past before she noticed that he had stopped rocking. Katerina gently brushed the back of his bruised hand and bit her lip to hold back tears.

"Erik, please, we must go from here."

Haltingly he peered at her before dropping his left hand. His right hand he kept firmly over his face. Katerina blinked, his mask was gone. All she could see between his fingers was blood.

Katerina swallowed, "We need to get him out of here."

Raoul nodded and together they pulled Erik out of the cage despite the sudden whimpers he made when they touched him. Katerina pulled off her cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders quickly pulling the hood over his face.

"Can you carry…?"

Her question was cut short as Raoul scooped up his burden in one smooth motion.

"Just lead the way."

Katerina nodded, "You take him to the carriage behind the theater, Christine and I will join you momentarily. Answer no questions, you are a Vicomte, you should be used to that."

She slammed her fist into a stone and a door opened before them.

"Move quickly, I don't know how much time we have before that monster gets out of the sewers."

* * *

Christine ran after Katerina as she slammed quickly up the stairs and into her office. Christine watched her yank a dark cloak off a peg and messily throw it on, covering her hair with the hood. 

"Christine, please go out into the dormitories and look for a small boy, Giovanni, I need him."

She nodded and fled back down the stairs. The theater was still in motion like everyday and Christine finally found the child sitting on the stage watching some of the dancers twitter about.

His eyes widened when he saw her but he followed her back without a word.

Katerina had been packing, throwing clothes and things into a bag. Giovanni blinked in confusion as he entered.

"Madame?"

"Ah, good, Gio. Something has come up. I fear that I will have to close the theater."

"What has happened Madame?"

Katerina sighed and crouched down in front of Giovanni, "Another phantom is in the theater."

Christine was shocked as to how she could be so frank with the child.

"Does he mean harm?"

Katerina closed her eyes and nodded, "Yes Gio, it is very dangerous now. He has…" her voice trailed off for an instant, "he has injured Master Durand."

The boy's eyes flew open wide with shock.

"I need you to make sure everyone leaves the theater. You too, I will return in a bit, but I need to make sure everyone is safe. Can you do that for me?"

Christine smiled as the boy nodded strongly, "Of course Madame."

"Good boy, now go summon everyone to the stage."

The speech was short and hurried. Christine watched from back stage as Katerina told the crew of her husband's sudden turn for the worst and how she quickly had to return to Marseilles. She stated that since there would be no one to manage the theater it would have to close for a little bit. She would not tolerate it be left open to tourists and the media.

Christine watched the crew nod and murmur among themselves. Katerina was crouched in front of Giovanni again, making sure he understood everything. Then the woman was sweeping past her, grabbing bags as they hurried for the door to the stables.

* * *

He growled in the damp. As if those whores thought that they could be rid of him that easily! Now he was angry, now there wouldn't be any more play time. Not anymore…

* * *

**Dear Buddha, please send me a beta reader…**


	16. II Hope Wavers

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or its characters; but I might buy them if they were on sale.**

**Ahh! New chapter! Slightly fluffy, slightly creepy. I am trying to expand this sudden friendship between the four and... Okay, maybe more creepy. I don't think I much like this new phantom meself. **

**I loved my reviews for the lastchapter and have to thank Surf with music, sillylovesongs1, Princess Persephone, and Veritasa. Reviews like that are the reasons I write. You guys are awesome. And this chapter is just for you.

* * *

**

Raoul sat comfortably in the small study watching the summer breeze toy with the curtains. The women upstairs had gone quiet with only the occasional burst of laughter. It was a wonderful respite from Katerina's nervous voice that had echoed through the flat all evening.

Erik was resting now although Raoul had expressed his concerns that the ladies should no longer continue to twitter around in the man's room. They had ignored him of course. Like usual, although he had noticed that Christine had begun to frown like Katerina did when she dismissed something. Only one day and they were off giggling like childhood friends.

Women.

* * *

"I'll look like a peasant!" 

"You'll look fine."

Erik was very suddenly aware that he was no longer in that nightmarish cage. He could hear Katerina, she sounded upset, but playful. Christine was giggling, her crystalline voice lighting up the room.

"Perhaps you will start a new fashion."

"I don't want to start a damn fashion, I want my hair back."

He heard a deep sigh from Christine, "Perhaps if you wear a hat…"

Erik opened his eyes a slit until they adjusted to the light. He was in a bed, but it wasn't his. The gilded pattern on the ceiling wasn't there. He was propped up in a pile of pillows and could feel the softness of bandages wound around him without looking. His body ached, as did his face, but he could feel the familiar shape of his mask once again.

"Stop moving, I'll have to cut it shorter if I make a mistake."

He blinked and looked at the two women whom he was facing. Then he blinked again. Katerina was sitting in a chair facing profile to him as Christine knelt with a pair of scissors behind her. Katerina's hair fell in a black wave no farther than the line of her jaw. She looked very nervous as Christine hummed to herself and cut locks of Katerina's hair off.

"There, all finished. You look fine," Christine stood.

"You're just saying that."

"Non, you look lovely," Christine turned and saw him. She smiled, "Tell her she looks lovely, Erik."

"You look lovely," he whispered as she turned quickly in the chair.

The look of relief on her face was beautiful. Katerina jumped up so quickly, she almost knocked over the chair.

"I think I shall take my leave now," Christine bowed with a smile on her face as she left the scissors on the vanity and slid silently out the door.

Katerina came and sat on the bed next to him. Gently he reached up and brushed the ends of her hair next to her cheek.

"What on earth happened to you?"

She blushed furiously, "That idiot phantom got a hold of it and I decided it was easier to cut my hair than his damned wrist."

Erik blinked as the days events came back to him and he noticed the pale bruise under her left eye, "Are you all right?"

Katerina nodded, "You should see what we did to him."

"Is he dead?"

Her face grew dark, "I do not think we are that lucky. W-we weren't trying to kill him. We were just trying to find you."

She was running her fingers over his hands, gently and quickly, she was quiet again and she wouldn't look him in the face.

"Erik, do you know where we found you?"

Slowly, he nodded and she visibly flinched. He could see anger smoldering in her dove gray eyes.

"He is a monster…"

Erik saw the tear fall from her face and felt it strike the back of his hand.

"Katerina…"

"Don't! Don't say it! Don't say you're a monster too." She leaned over him and shook her head, dropping glittering tears onto the bed, "I know what you've done, but you didn't deserve that. No one deserved that…"

He saw her façade crumble away until he was left with his little mouse once again. Erik smiled and pulled her to him despite her murmurings that she would hurt him.

"Hush, Mon petite, dry your tears. We are all safe."

Katerina sniffed, "Safe, for how long?"

"I cannot say my love. I cannot say."

* * *

Christine sighed and more prodded the pot of oatmeal she was cooking than stirred it. The little flat had been silent for two days. Katerina had been storming around the entire time, Raoul along with her, and Erik would only get out of bed after dark. 

Now it was quiet again. Raoul had gone out to see his banker and take care of a few personal things. It had taken him almost an hour to leave because she was afraid that the phantom would find him alone. Katerina had told her to stop acting like a child and let the grown man go. Sometimes Katerina was right, but Christine wished that the woman would find kinder words. Christine peeked out of the kitchen at Katerina who was resting on the divan with books and papers all around her.

The woman had begun reading and when that wasn't enough she started drawing on every blank bit of paper she could get her hands on. It seemed that she would go mad if she just sat idle.

Christine hummed an aria as she cooked. She had tried yesterday to show Katerina how to make breakfast but Katerina didn't have the patience for it. Christine didn't know if she had the patience to teach her. Frayed nerves were taking their toll. She wondered if they could just go off together. Just go back to Orleans and take Katerina and Erik with them. But that was a silly notion; Erik would never leave his theater. Of course he had changed since Katerina; Christine sighed again and smiled to herself.

She had actually seen Raoul and Erik talking last night.

Civilly.

* * *

Erik paused in the doorway to the sitting room. Katerina was sprawled out on a divan in a mess of papers. He smiled, made herself right at home, didn't she? He noticed that she was wearing one of Christine's dresses. Christine had gotten her to try on one of the frocks yesterday and she had walked about like a dog that someone had put a skirt on. At least until he had told her she looked beautiful. Of course, he could care less what she was wearing, but he had been informed that she was going to be particularly touchy about her hair for awhile. 

He hadn't a damned idea why it was such a big fuss but Raoul had just nodded wisely at him. He supposed the man had more experience with these things.

Erik paused as he heard singing coming from the kitchen. He smiled as he recognized the aria from Hannibal. Quietly he slipped around Katerina and made his was into the kitchen.

"That is a familiar sound."

"Oh!" Christine jumped and then smiled, "Your silence is familiar as well."

Erik nodded and looked over her shoulder, "Ah, so you've been doing the cooking."

"Who did you expect?"

"Well I knew it was not Katerina."

"You tease her too much."

Erik leaned against the doorway, ignoring the still smarting bruises on his shoulder, "You, Madame, have never actually tasted anything she has produced in the kitchen. So you cannot judge."

Christine blushed and then silence fell between them.

Erik ran his eyes over her. In the last three days he had never really looked at her. Not in the studying way that he used to. He did recall her grace and the way her hair moved when she did. What he didn't recall was that she looked so young. Perhaps it was because Katerina tried to act so old all the time. After a moment he blinked when he realized that she had turned, very slightly, to look at him as well.

"There are many things left unsaid between us," her slight voice whispered.

Erik nodded as he heard papers move in the other room, "Perhaps some things should be just left as they are."

Slowly a smile spread onto her face and she nodded.

"Breakfast…" Katerina muttered as she entered the room.

She didn't make it too far because Erik grabbed her and caught her in his arms.

* * *

Raoul banged on the front door until Christine opened it. 

"Forgot my damned key."

She smiled and he heard the cheery tones of piano music echoing through the flat.

He had remembered a piano in the study but it hadn't much use, save as a desk, to him. Now he could hear laugher and music. The cloud that had taken over the flat was gone. Christine seemed glowing with excitement.

"I take it he's stopped sulking around his room."

She nodded and shut the door behind him and then looked at the papers in his hands.

"Did you find something?"

"Maybe."

He swept into the study as Katerina laughed from the pile of papers she was sitting in and Erik's fingers plucked random notes from the piano.

"Blast it woman, you're always going on about neo-classical architecture, you aren't even stopping to consider the features of pre-modernization… Oh, hello, Raoul."

Raoul blinked as Erik glanced up and the conversation ceased.

"Don't let me interrupt," Raoul said dropping the papers onto the desk.

"You aren't," Katerina said quickly, and Raoul pretended not to notice her blush.

Christine smiled as she entered the room, "Don't mind them, they've been going on all morning, I haven't the slightest idea what they've been talking about."

"Art," Katerina said.

"Science," Erik said.

"You should have heard them going off in Farsi," Christine said sitting down on the divan.

"We were only practicing. Katerina's accent is terrible," Erik said rather offhandedly as he frowned and wrote something down on the sheet of paper in front of him.

"I see, I think I may have found some... Information."

"Let's see," Katerina said.

Raoul handed her the paper, "It's today's edition."

Katerina frowned and Erik looked at her pointedly, "Katerina, read it out loud."

"Oh, sorry, um… Two women were found strangled in alley behind the closed theater. The ghost strikes again. Raoul, what is this?"

"Didn't you keep up on the news surrounding the opera house before you bought it?"

Katerina shook her head and Erik took the paper from her, "We knew nothing until Katerina heardthat it wasbeing torn down."

"I saw that this morning and asked the paper seller, apparently it's happened before. The bodies of strangled women have been found right above your heads."

Katerina gasped and turned to Erik.

He shook his head and studied the paper, "What else did you find out?"

"Well, the murders had been going on sporadically for the last seven years with bodies being found in the slums of Paris. After the incident at the opera house they blamed the ghost. Oddly enough bodies started to be found in the ruins of the theater."

Christine shook her head, "You don't think that whoever killed these women…"

"Is our phantom. The murders ceased as soon as the theater was purchased. These are the first since then."

Erik twisted the paper in his hands, "I do not like this at all. If the murders had ceased then…"

"Perhaps he had found something else to occupy his time," Katerina said.

"Like us," Erik hissed.

Christine shook her head, "But why does he do this? Why does he haunt the theater?"

Katerina sighed, "Maybe he is a copycat, he wants to be the opera ghost. So he pretends."

The piano made a jarring noise as Erik stood.

"Erik?" Christine sat up straighter as the papers hit the floor and Erik slammed the door behind him.

Katerina scrambled to her feet.

* * *

Katerina hovered in the doorway as she watched Erik pace in the bedroom. She had seen him this angry before and it wasn't a pretty sight. 

"Filthy bastard…" he spat as he knocked bottles from the vanity.

"Erik…"

Katerina slid out of the room long enough to avoid the crash. She heard footsteps on the stairs and waved Raoul away as he came running up.

"What the hell is he doing?"

"He's angry, he'll calm down in a bit, maybe."

"He'll destroy that room."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Raoul paused and looked at her, debating his wisdom. Finally he nodded and slowly turned as two more loud crashes came from the room. Katerina smiled nervously and shooed him away as Christine appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Katerina waited, more crashes sounded and then something akin to breaking glass. She sighed and closed her eyes. After a few minutes it was silent. Katerina took a deep breath and nudged open the door.

There was broken glass and splintered furniture around the room, the sheets had been torn from the bed and Erik sat on the end of it. He was glaring at a broken vase and seemed to be ignoring the fact that the knuckles on his right hand were smeared with blood. After a moment Katerina yanked a handkerchief from her pocket and walked through the room. Her borrowed shoes crunched on broken glass and bits of wood. Gently she lifted his hand and examined it.

They were silent as she wrapped the cloth around his hand and held it between hers.

"Are you finished?" she asked.

"For today."

"You scared off the Vicomte."

"Good."

"They are our only allies."

"Then they will get killed. They should go back to Orleans."

"Erik…"

"I never murdered without cause Katerina. I never murdered for fun! This man is dangerous and unpredictable and…"

Katerina saw the anger lessen in his eyes.

"Katerina, he would murder you without blinking," His voice wavered and he looked at his hand between hers, "he would destroy us on a whim."

"Which is all the more reason to stay together," she brushed his hair from his face, "I know it's hard to trust people…"

"It isn't that…"

"You don't trust us to take care of ourselves. You must have faith in us."

"Katerina, I have nothing but fear right now."

The words echoed in the silent room and Katerina gently ran her fingers through his hair.

Erik swallowed, "You should leave Paris."

Katerina gently kissed the top of his head, "Erik Destler, you are not the master of me."

"Katerina…"

"I am with you until the end, now shush and help me pick up the bedroom. I will not sleep on the divan in the study."

"I could not bear it if he hurt you."

"Then you know how I feel."

* * *

Christine listened to the house grow quiet once again. She sighed and looked at her husband, "I supposed it's fortunate that we do not have close neighbors." 

"Not with the way that pair carry on," Raoul muttered and scooped up the paper from the floor.

"It is much more dangerous this time around," Christine breathed.

"It was dangerous six years ago."

Christine shook her head, "Non, Erik never looked like this man. You saw his eyes. Erik never looked like that."

* * *

Raoul paused and then slowly sat down on the piano bench. She was right. This man had a different air around him. Six years ago Raoul knew that despite everything that happened the phantom would not allow Christine to be harmed. This man had a look of madness in his eyes beyond what Raoul had ever seen. Then there was what he had done to Erik. The cage and the lash… Raoul squeezed his eyes shut, they were lost in the dark this time and all bets were off.

* * *

**Dun dun duuuun!**


	17. II Harmless Mistakes

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or the characters it contains. **

**I think this one is a slight improvement over the last chapter, it seemed kind of weak to me. I so wanted some romantic fluff to get me over the fact that I was angry at my own villain. Funny, how that works out.**

**

* * *

**

Katerina watched the sun rise from the kitchen window. Erik had gone to bed only an hour ago and she didn't hear any other stirrings from upstairs. She shook her head and looked into her tea. She didn't know if she could go to the police. If she could just hide Erik away for a little bit… Katerina watched the tea leaves swirl in her cup. It wouldn't be fair to him. She didn't want to hide him; she didn't want to lie anymore!

With a grunt she slammed the tea cup onto the saucer. When did everything become so complicated? It had all happened so quickly. Katerina closed her eyes and focused on the growing warmth of the sun. She remembered the first day in the temporary house. She had walked into the music room and found Erik sitting in the sun. Just sitting there, enjoying it. It had made her smile like nothing else had. She hated to see him angry and sulking. She wanted to see those rare smiles, the ones she had to coax out of him at first. Katerina sighed; she longed to hear him sing again.

She walked over to the sink and dumped out her tea watching the leaves swirl in the bit of amber liquid; couldn't gypsies see the future in tea leaves? She turned her head trying to discern any sort of pattern, nothing but cruddy lumps and lines. Katerina blinked and stared at a particularly large bit that had gotten stuck to last night's dinner plates. If one stared at it long enough you could almost say it resembled a skull… Katerina shook her head and turned the water on.

Nonsense.

* * *

Raoul stared at Katerina for a long minute before he cleared his throat, "Where on earth did you get all those?" 

He had come down for a late breakfast and found Katerina, already dressed, sitting amongst a pile of newspapers in the study.

"I had them delivered. The printer keeps back issues and I am apparently charming enough to borrow copies of them."

"You went out alone?"

"I sent a boy with a letter, try not to faint."

Raoul nodded, "I was going to the police station to make an inquiry today."

Katerina raised her eyebrow.

"About the women, I am going to say that there was a maid lost from my household and my wife wanted to make sure one of them wasn't her."

"Does Christine know of your clever lie?"

Raoul called as he went into the kitchen, "She came up with it. I'll go as soon as I've finished eating. Christine isn't feeling well today, I don't know if she'll be getting up."

Katerina smiled and nodded, "Erik probably won't get up until late afternoon. There's some sliced fruit on the table if you want any."

"Thank you," Raoul picked up a slice of strawberry and returned to the study.

"Was that a thank you for telling you or thank you for not cooking?"

"You're much too sensitive about that. Just hire a cook like other women do."

"In case you haven't noticed Erik and I are very private individuals."

"Well, then have someone teach you, but stop sniping about it."

Katerina chuckled as she shuffled papers around.

* * *

The house was quiet again after Raoul left. Katerina sighed; she still wasn't used to the quiet. Not with the damned amount of noise Erik always made. He was either cursing or tinkering with some sort of instrument. If their home was quiet he was either reading or asleep. 

She went over another article and sighed, the same details. They were all starting to blur together. Apparently there had been a total of twelve murders. Twelve and the damned police were at a loss. There was no pattern to these murders. Just the same method, but he always struck in a different place at a different time and none of the women seemed to have anything in common. Katerina sighed and re-read the article. Then she paused and read out loud,

"The body of nineteen year old Marie Roulin was found by a dock worker, Jean Moreau, yesterday evening… Jean Moreau, Moreau."

Katerina quickly dug through the papers. Why was that name so familiar? Had she seen it before? She flipped through papers until she caught it again,

"Sixteen year old Aria Moreau, a dancer at the famous Opera Populair was found murdered…" Katerina skimmed through the article, "she is survived by her brother Jean."

Katerina suddenly remembered why the name was so familiar. She had seen it in the records when she bought the theater. Katerina stood suddenly scattering papers off her lap. The records, they could help… But they were in her desk at the theater! She glanced upstairs. Maybe if she woke Erik up… Non, and Christine was feeling ill. Perhaps if…

Katerina swallowed and snatched her cloak off the rack in the hallway.

* * *

Erik blinked, there was a slit in the curtains anda shaft of sunlight was falling directly over his eyes. He growled and rolled over. Katerina must already be awake. He couldn't tell what time it was because he had smashed the clock on the mantle last night. He could hear shuffling in the hallway and a light scratch at the door. 

"Come in," he snapped sitting up.

Christine peered in from the hallway, "I didn't mean to disturb you; I was just looking for Katerina."

"She's probably downstairs."

Christine hesitated and Erik straightened, "Is she downstairs?"

Christine shook her head, "Non, but she has probably gone with Raoul then."

"Do you know for sure?"

"Non, I thought she would be here."

Erik quickly got out of bed.

* * *

Katerina stared into the darkened theater. She swallowed and looked at the coach behind her. 

"I will return in but a few moments, Monsieur. I simply must fetch something."

The driver nodded and Katerina tried her best to not panic. It would be simple run in, run upstairs, get the records from her desk and run out. Simple. He couldn't know she was coming. Katerina took a deep breath, pushed the door open and dashed into the theater.

* * *

Far off in the catacombs, a small bell chimed.

* * *

Christine and Erik both froze when they heard a key in the door. Christine nearly ran into the front hall as Raoul closed the door behind him. He turned and saw their faces. 

"What's wrong?"

"Is Katerina with you?" Christine breathed.

Slowly Raoul shook his head, "No, I left her here after breakfast. She was in the study…"

"Merde!" The pair turned to Erik and he glared at Raoul, "She is not in the study. She isn't anywhere in the house. If she isn't with you then we have no idea where she's gone to."

Raoul paled, "she couldn't have gone out by herself…"

"Oh, I'm sure she could have; what I want to know is what in that empty skull of hers told her it was okay to do so."

Christine twisted a handkerchief between her hands.

Raoul swallowed, "I'm sure she's fine. Katerina can look after herself. She isn't helpless."

"That doesn't mean she's safe," Erik spat.

Christine frowned, "She couldn't have gone very far, she wouldn't have. It must have been important…"

All three froze at the sound of someone coming up the graveled walkway. Raoul threw the front door open and Katerina blinked.

* * *

Katerina shut the door behind her and slowly turned to regard the deadly silence in the room. All three of them were glaring at her although Erik's intensity won the prize. 

She swallowed and hugged the files to her chest, "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"I'd like to speak with you alone," Erik hissed.

Katerina nodded and handed off the files to Raoul as she followed Erik into the study.

"So?"

Katerina tried to look innocent, "So what?"

"So what was worth risking your life for? _More papers_?"

Katerina sank onto the divan, "I-I thought I could be back before anyone noticed…"

"What if you did not come back? We wouldn't have any idea where to look for you! Katerina, you are smarter than this!"

Katerina stared at the carpet, "I made a mistake…"

"One that could have gotten you killed! Stupid girl, Katerina!" Erik leaned over the desk and shook his head, "I don't even know what to say to you."

"I'm sorry! Nothing happened, I'm fine!"

Erik turned and Katerina saw the anger in his eyes flicker, "Why did you not at least tell someone?"

"R-Raoul had already left and Christine felt ill, I didn't want to bother you…"

"You would get yourself killed because you _didn't want to wake me up?_"

Katerina managed a dry chuckle, "It sounds silly now…"

"_Silly?_ After all you said last night…" The anger flared in his eyes and then died down, Erik pressed his fingers to his right temple, "Katerina I am going to bed, and if you are not here when I wake, so help me, I will kill you myself to save me the worry."

* * *

Christine sheltered herself in Raoul's arms as the yelling ceased. The door slammed against the wall as Erik emerged from the study and went upstairs without glancing their way. 

There was a crash upstairs and then the house went silent. After a few moments Katerina appeared in the doorway.

"Has the storm passed?" Christine whispered.

"I think so; there isn't anything else in the bedroom he can break."

"Do I even want to know where it is you went?" Raoul asked.

Katerina smiled weakly, "I needed something from my desk…"

Christine blinked, "In the theater? By yourself?"

Raoul just groaned, "Thank God you didn't tell him _that_."

* * *

The smell sickened him, half rotted food coupled with his own hunger made his head spin. He could hear people yelling as the lash burned into his skin. He couldn't make himself any smaller. He couldn't press himself into the bars any further. Make it stop… Make it stop… 

Erik drew in a ragged breath as he awoke staring at the ceiling. The room was darkened but it was not yet night. The curtains had been opened. It was cold; the fire in the grate had gone out. A melting candle sat on the nightstand. Someone had righted it after he had knocked it across the floor. Erik sat up and groaned as the deepest wounds across his shoulders ached. He heard a movement on the floor and saw Katerina in the half light.

She had been sitting on the floor leaning up against the bed.

"Are you all right?" Her voice was low, nearly a whisper, as if she didn't not wish to upset him again.

"How long have you been there?"

"Since after lunch," She said grimacing as she shifted.

She sat on the floor looking up at him, her arms tucked around her knees and he remembered waking up to her sitting like that, in her stocking feet looking at him with that wiry little smile of hers. He had never really known what she had been smiling about before he woke. She never would tell him or admit to any faces she had been making.

But now she wasn't smiling. She was just sitting with her eyes far away, like a little girl who had been sent to her room. Her short hair was messy and he could see that it was held out of her face by a ribbon that was coming undone.

"Katerina."

She looked up at him and a shy smile came to her lips. Like the ones she used to give him before she had decided it was safe to smile at him.

"Yes?"

"Please don't leave like that again."

After a few moments she nodded, "You told me to not give into my pride. I didn't listen. I'm truly sorry."

Her words hung in the air and Erik closed his eyes, "You seem to apologize quite a bit to me."

"It's just I never mean to hurt you, you're the one person I _don't_ want to hurt and I just end up… It's so… I mean…"

He looked over at her to find her face buried in her knees.

"Katerina, you've lost your words."

She lifted her head and nodded.

"Come here."

She didn't stand but merely crawled onto the bed and curled up in his lap. He gently drew his fingers through her hair until he felt her relax beneath his touch. It was a novelty to feel that. A joy he had strained for but never known. He ran his fingers across the base of her neck and smiled as he heard her giggle into his chest.

"Erik! That tickles!" She sat up and smiled.

Erik looked at her and then she frowned, "Does it hurt?"

He blinked for a second until he realized that unconsciously he was rubbing at his temple, at the bandage underneath the mask.

"It stings."

Katerina shook her head, "It's healing, there may be pulling on the stitches and that's why it stings. Let me…" her suddenly eyes fell to the bed, "ah, never mind."

A stab of emotion went through him, "Never mind what?"

"I was going to say let me look at it but if you don't want to…"

Erik blinked as a realization came over him. The wound beneath his mask was stitched and bandaged. He felt his mouth go dry,

"So you've seen?"

She nodded without looking at him, "you didn't have your mask on when we found you. I-I got another from your room, but the gash was so deep it had to be treated, I… Well, you were unconscious and I…"

"Don't be upset," Erik whispered, "It just hadn't occurred to me until now."

Katerina looked at him with concern in her eyes, "I've seen Erik, but you've never showed me. It doesn't count."

He smiled, just a little, "I suppose you didn't recoil in horror as I kept imagining you would."

"Erik, the most horrific thing was how much you were bleeding."

He heard the edge in her voice. The anger that said she had been worried about him. They fought so much because they worried so. Now all of a sudden one of his worries was gone. She had seen the twisted horror that he had kept hidden from her; beneath the mask, his shield from the world, his shield from her.

Slowly he reached up and cupped her face in his hands. He ran his fingers across her smooth cheeks and brushed the bangs from her forehead then he slid one down her tiny nose making her smile. Then just as slowly he looked down and removed the mask from his face.

He stared down at it in his hands. Not since Katerina had he wondered how one tiny thing could hold so much power, so much sway against him. Erik squeezed his eyes shut against ancient aching pain. A monster who strived for beauty and perfection, so much that it drew him to the edge of madness. He had seen into the abyss and all the demons there wore masks.

Now he sat in front of Katerina, the demon facing the maiden. The girl did not seem like an angel to him like Christine had. No, Katerina annoyed him far too much to be an angel from God. He remembered the old Irish stories of pixies and brownies. Little curious fey that stumble into peoples households asking questions and making chaos until everything settled down the way it needed to be.

Katerina the pixie…

_What is that mask? Why do you wear it? What is it for? Why is it important? How could it be? Is it bigger than you? What this here? Why do you keep a broken heart? Don't you know how to fix it? Do you want me to show you? _

He felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on his chin and he let her raise his face to her but he did not open his eyes. He felt her hands smooth over the left side of his face, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw and cheek. He almost pulled away when her fingers touched his lips and continued, brushing her sweet caresses over his twisted countenance. He didn't want to pull away, truly he was afraid, but he craved her touch more. Her slight fingers and feather light stroke. She traced all the lines of his face and then he heard a quiet giggle.

"Erik, you are trembling."

He opened his eyes and looked upon her smiling face, still smiling as if nothing had changed at all.

"Katerina, what do you see when you look at me?"

She looked confused for an instant and then laughed slightly, "I see my Erik."

He sat on the bed for a few minutes turning her words over in his head. He didn't know the right answer to the question he had asked, but after a moment he reached over and placed his mask on the nightstand next to the candle.

"There," he said with a finality he had not expected, "Here I am, naked before you, do what you wish."

Her eyebrows shot up and a playful glint appeared in her eyes.

"Do what I wish?"

A tendril of desire swept up through his stomach as she grinned, "Well, I was going to just check your stitches, but if I get to do what I wish…"

Erik blinked as she suddenly pushed him down onto the bed. The rush of emotion was indescribable as she looked down upon him, no longer a pixie, but a goddess.

"Well, what I meant was… I mean…"

Her mouth captured his before he could finish. The kiss was long and sweet, it spoke of much more to come. She broke from him and laughed a sirens song,

"Erik, you've lost your words."

* * *

Their laughter echoed into the street and he paused. His gloved hand was outstretched so that his fingers struck every wrought iron bar as he walked. He had found them all in their brick and shingle fortress, the knight, the queen, the king, and the little prideful pawn. She had done just as he wanted of her. Chess was a complicated game and he had never really the time to learn everything it had to offer, but even he knew to not capture some pieces immediately. The laugher faded and the softer sounds of something else entwined with the sounds of the coming night. 

"Love her," he whispered, "love her while you still can."

* * *

**Can't say the next chapter looks too good for our heroes...**

**A/N: The pixie idea and the questions are from a story my father used to tell me when I was little. It was about a man that lived alone after the loss of his family until one day a pixie girl found her way into his house. She started going through every thing he had, tossing bits here and there and asking like nine hundred questions as he chased her all over the place. Finally he gave up and found himself answering her. In the end he came to terms with his loss because he talked to her about it and found a new companion. It always seemed so romantic to me.**


	18. II Bartering Souls

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or the characters in it. Katerina is all mine though.**

**Short but important chapter.I only got one review! I love getting reviews. They make Seattle winters sunny.

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Raoul looked up from the newspapers as the pair of voices in the kitchen rose into a crescendo. He didn't know that Katerina could sing, although one would assume so since she had been living with Erik for three years. The song broke into a shower of pealing laughter. He was finding it rather hard to concentrate on reading with the pair carrying on.

A squeal sounded from the kitchen, along with more laughter. Raoul tossed down the paper as the study door opened.

Erik blinked in the doorway as the women rose into more singing.

Raoul glared, "They've been going at it all morning."

Erik shrugged and sat down at the piano where his breakfast had been left. Raoul watched him eat a slice of pear with one hand as he toyed with the piano with the other. He seemed quieter, but one could never tell with the man.

"You're staring."

Raoul cleared his throat, "Sorry."

Christine and Katerina started singing an aria but they only got to the second verse when that also quickly deteriorated into fits of laugher from both women. Erik looked up into the kitchen door and Raoul saw a smile on the man's face. Delicate music filled the air and the kitchen went silent.

Raoul went back to skimming the papers that Katerina had brought. They seemed to be employee records for the theater. As far as he could tell the oldest was dated 1827 and they all seemed to be in no order what so ever. She had said to look for the name Moreau. He sighed, a woman named Aria and a man named Jean. That really didn't narrow anything down. He supposed it would be in the recent files…

Christine bustled out of the kitchen with Katerina behind her.

"Katerina, mothering isn't dresses. Little boys can be darling too."

"But dresses! Imagine her all little in lace and…"

The music paused for an instant before it continued in earnest.

Raoul looked up, "Just what is going on?"

"Nothing," both women answered at once.

"You know, I don't particularly want to know. Katerina, what am I looking for?"

Katerina pulled the two newspapers out from the pile and then shuffled through the stacks of files.

"Here he is, Jean Moreau, he was a flyman for the theater six years ago. A year before that, his sister Aria, a chorus girl in the ballet was murdered in the Rue Lepic."

Raoul looked at the papers, "His sister was the first murder?"

Katerina nodded, "Six more happened after that, but the seventh murder, _he_ was the one who discovered the body."

"I see; that could just be coincidence."

"Look at the dates."

"September 16th. Wait, a moment, his sister was killed on the sixteenth of September, the same day as the other girl whose body he happened to stumble upon."

"Rather odd, isn't it?"

The music ceased as Erik stood and came to look at the papers in front of Raoul.

"The police were wrong, there is a pattern."

Katerina nodded, "There is, it just isn't a very strong pattern, and it did change. After the incident at the opera house, the murders stopped for seven months until they started again, the same method only now all the bodies were found on the steps of the ruined theater. The police suspected another killer, but the method was too similar. It was as if something happened in the murderer's life to make him change."

"The destruction of the opera house," Christine breathed.

Erik slowly nodded, "Do you know what happened to him?"

"No," Katerina shook her head, "I asked some of the other flymen that had returned to the theater, but they said after the fire Jean just disappeared, like he had never existed. As far as anyone knows he died that night."

Raoul looked at the scrawling writing on the documents before him, a name, a birthday, and an address…

* * *

Christine hated it when Raoul went out. At least it was after nightfall and Erik had gone with him. Raoul had gone to speak to some people from the theater and to a woman that this Moreau character had been boarding under. Katerina was downstairs in the study still. She had been reading papers and taking notes like mad.

She sighed and looked into the mirror. This was a flesh and blood man they were after, a flesh and blood man that the police should have caught ages ago. It scared her to think that they hadn't yet, because they never found Erik and Erik was almost frighteningly clever to her. If this man was clever enough to not be caught, then he had to be as clever as Erik.

Christine brushed her hair out and frowned, there was a chill coming from somewhere. She turned and saw the curtains blow out from the window. That was it; she must have left the window open. She felt uneasy, at least in the daylight she could pretend. She could laugh and sing, and talk to Katerina about what might be. The window shut easily and she turned back to the mirror.

Just as strong hands slipped around her neck.

* * *

Erik grumbled in the cool air. It was still a relatively warm night, not at all like the bitter winter but he still grumbled. He was used to fire now and light. Every time the damn wind blew he was reminded of the grotto and his lair.

Raoul knocked on the door to the boarding house as Erik leaned away from the door to the right. He had his hood up and was hoping he wouldn't draw too much attention. Katerina had laughed at him, saying to not make it look like he was kidnapping the Vicomte. Raoul had just smirked as they had left. Erik closed his eyes and heard the door open.

"Can I 'elp you?"

"Pardon me, I am looking for a Madame Rene."

"Tha's me. Whach you want?"

"I am inquiring about a boarder of yours, a man called Jean Moreau."

Silence and then, "'E worked at tha' theater right? 'E moved out a bit a'go."

"Can you possibly tell me when and where he may have gone?"

"Don't see why a fine dressed man like yerself want anything to do with Jean."

He heard Raoul take in a sharp breath, "Well, you see Madame; he owes me quite a sum of money. I seemed to have…"

"Gotten yerself in trouble wit 'im, then? I don't know where 'e went. Just know tha' 'e moved out nearly six month's a'go. 'E was a quiet one, always reading and such. Lost 'is sister a few years back 'e did."

"I will give him my condolences, thank you."

The door slammed shut.

Erik sighed, "Well, that was a waste of time."

Raoul nodded, "Our week is nearly up; Katerina is going to have to come up with a new excuse."

Erik adjusted his cloak around him, "She's good at that, a little too good sometimes."

Raoul nodded, "We should get back."

The pair walked down the street in perfect silence for nearly ten minutes.

Raoul spoke first, "Where did you meet her?"

Erik turned as they walked, "She saved my life."

Erik didn't recognize Raoul's expression, but after a bit the man nodded,

"Would you tell me how?"

Erik paused for a moment and then nodded, "It was three years after the fire…"

* * *

Katerina paused in her reading. The house was quiet. She had been unconsciously aware of Christine's light footsteps upstairs and now there was only silence. Katerina shook her head; the woman had probably sat down or gone to bed or something like that. Katerina sighed, it seemed that the discoveries that she had been making were coming to an end. She could see no more patterns in the behavior of this man. The lack of information frightened her. Erik had told her that knowledge was power, to know what made a person act was power over them. After she had seen Erik in the cage Katerina had feared that maybe this phantom held power over them, power they themselves did not posses.

A thud sounded upstairs and Katerina put down the paper she was staring at. It had been a soft sound, unnoticeable if there had been other people in the house. Katerina sighed; perhaps Christine had dropped a comb or something.

Katerina stood and went to the bottom of the stairs,

"Christine! What are you doing?"

Silence greeted her and Katerina blinked. There was no light on the second floor. Katerina knew that Christine had left the gas lamp on in the hallway when she had gone up. She wouldn't have gone up if it had been dark.

Katerina hurried up the stairs.

"Christine?" she paused as she noticed the door to her bedroom was open halfway.

She remembered Erik shutting it before he left. Perhaps Christine had wanted to borrow something? The soft sound of music permeated the air and Katerina took a step towards the room. It was a small sound, a gentle tinkling and every few notes a little bell would sound. Katerina blinked as she recognized the melody. Erik would sing it, he had told her of the song before in their days beneath the theater.

Katerina pushed the door open and saw a small ornate box sitting on top of the vanity with a candle next to it. She could make out a shadowy figure atop the box and as the little bell rang she realized that it was a monkey with little crashing cymbals on its hands.

Erik had told her of this music box.

_Masquerade…_

_Paper faces on parade…_

_Masquerade…_

Erik had been so angry when he spoke of it. It had been one of the things that were taken by the mobs that had descended into his lair after the fire.

Katerina gasped as fear leapt into her chest.

The melody wore on and she saw the shadows move in the corner of the room.

"_Hide your face, so the world will never find you_," the voice was not as sweet as Erik's. It was off key and had a hideous rasp to it.

Slowly, Katerina turned and swallowed. There was a figure sprawled out on her bed. Only the hair and the gown told her it was Christine.

The shadow stood in the center of the room, with his head bowed and his arms spread wide like Christ on the cross. So slowly his head rolled so he looked at her. His black mask glittered in the candlelight and Katerina could make out a crack down the middle of it.

He grinned at her and bowed, "Good evening Mademoiselle, I was wondering if I could make you an offer you cannot refuse?"

His arm suddenly jerked forward and Katerina heard a thud at her feet. She looked down and as her eyes adjusted to the light she felt tears come to her eyes.

"Madam DeChangy agreed to come to my bal without a fight but I realized that you would need some… incentive to be a well-mannered mademoiselle."

Katerina shuddered at the small hunched figure in front of her. A rope trailed from the madman's hand to a tight collar around the figures neck. She could hear his labored breathing and see the dark bruises on his pale flesh.

"Oh God, no," she breathed.

Giovanni was on his knees in front of her, looking up with fear in his small features. There were tears in his eyes and he shook as the phantom tugged playfully on the rope.

"So what will it be Madame Durand? Your life or his?"

* * *

**Please review! **


	19. II Deeper Dungeons

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters within.**

**So, so, sorry for taking forever to update. Here I get to the most important cliffhanger and winter quarter starts. I got swamped with homework for the last two days, thankfully it's tapering off and hopefully I can finish this before I get laden with essays again.**

**And I really have to thank the reviewers, I think you all have more care and concern for my characters than I do. Your questions shall be answered, read on.(Eep!)

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"You have to be joking."

Erik shook his head, "No, she hid it from me for two years. It wasn't until I returned early one evening that I heard her singing while she painted."

"So? What was her excuse?"

"She claimed that she told me that she _did_ not sing, not that she couldn't."

"You would think that…" Raoul paused as people passed by them on the sidewalk, "you would think that she would have let something slip."

"I heard her once when I was ill, but could barely remember it," Erik said as they turned down their street, "I understood why she hid it once she confessed."

"Why?"

"She did not want to be compared to Christine; she didn't want me to remember something hurtful."

"Sounds like something Katerina would do."

Erik smiled wirily, "Does it?"

Raoul grinned, "Well, from what I know of the woman…"

He trailed off as they came to the flat. Erik froze for an instant. The front door was open an inch. Raoul went ahead of him and pushed the door. It swung open silently to darkness.

"Christine? Katerina?"

There wasn't a single sound save for Raoul's echoing voice.

Erik hurried up the steps to the darkened doorway, "Something is wrong."

* * *

Christine blinked; someone was gently stroking her hair. She shifted and coughed. She was lying in Katerina's lap and the woman was staring straight ahead. Christine's awareness rose. Her knee scraped against the stone ground and she recognized the grotto. Little more than a scraped out shell from what she remembered. She was in Katerina's lap, Christine looked up, a brilliant purple bruise was across Katerina's cheek and dried blood followed a little trail from a gash in her bottom lip. 

"Kat…"

"Shush," her sudden whisper, "he wants quiet."

Slowly she turned to see what Katerina was staring at; a tall man in a black cloak that was pacing back and forth in front of the underground lake. She could see the black mask he wore, a glaring shape against his pale skin. His reddish hair was messy and he seemed to be talking to himself.

Christine gasped as she realized what was going on. The darkness flashed into her mind, the hands around her… her neck ached and something pulled on her wrist. She tugged on the manacle for a moment, rattling the long chain that tethered her to the wall, until Katerina shook her head and held up her own bloodied wrist.

"Katerina, what happened? He got you…?"

"Hush, stay quiet, just stay quiet," she whispered.

"Do I hear a little bird?" the voice rung out clearly with no echo.

Suddenly Katerina grasped Christine and yanked her down. Christine screamed as a gunshot sounded in the grotto and she heard it hit the wall above their heads. Katerina held her in silence for what felt like an eternity.

"I thought not, good little birds only sing when they're told."

Christine shuddered and began to sob as fear took hold of her. Katerina just wrapped her arms around her and held her.

Christine sobbed, "Raoul… Erik… they will come for us. Won't they?"

Katerina's voice was emotionless, there were no sounds of comfort or hope, "Yes, they will dear heart, yes they will."

Erik moved cautiously up the stairs and down the hall as Raoul slid into the study. It was too quiet, even if the women had gone up to bed…

Erik heard a muffled squeal followed by a thump. He slowly pushed the bedroom door open and saw a small figure in the darkness. He heard a scream and the bed rattled. Erik ran and lit a gas lamp as Giovanni tugged at the ropes that bound him to the bed.

"Raoul! Get up here!" Erik yelled as he yanked the gag from the boy's mouth.

"He took them!" Giovanni's voice filled the air with fear, "He took Madame and the Comtess! He made Madame go to the theater… he made her…"

Erik pulled the knots free as Giovanni began to cry. Erik scooped up the child as Raoul entered the room.

"What in Gods name…?" Raoul breathed as his eyes fell upon the sobbing child.

Erik shot Raoul a glance. A sign for the Vicomte to be quiet, and the room was silent, as Erik sat down on the bed and gently rocked Gio until he felt the tension in the small body ease against him.

Giovanni sniffled into his chest, "He said she was coming to his bal. She didn't say a word, she just left… He said he'd kill me if she didn't… Master Durand, I tried to run away… She…"

The little boy's shoulders shook and Erik tenderly smoothed the boys hair, "Hush, Gio, it isn't your fault. Let me take a look at you."

The boy sat back, tears still streaming down face, as Erik quickly looked over him. He was dirty and bruised but relatively unharmed.

Erik looked at Raoul, "he's fine, but the women are…"

"He has them, I know. There's a noose in the study."

Erik closed his eyes as Giovanni sought comfort in his arms. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, holding the child to his chest.

Raoul broke the silence, "If he means to harm them…"

"We will find out what he means to do or has done soon enough."

Erik stood leaving Giovanni on the bed. The small boy swallowed as Erik got down on his knees to face him.

"Giovanni, you must run to the police station, do you think you can do that?"

"Erik!" Raoul cried as Giovanni nodded ardently.

"Raoul, he will kill them!" Erik's sharp voice rang through the room, "I would gladly bear a cage than that."

Giovanni swallowed, "W-what do I tell the police?"

Erik smiled sadly, "Tell them of your Madame and the Comtess; tell them that the phantom has returned."

"He's not real!" Giovanni cried with a pained expression, "Madame said that you were the real phantom and that you wouldn't harm anyone. This man… this man…"

Erik cupped the boys chin in his hand, "Listen to me Gio, tell them what has happened and tell them that the women's _husbands_ have gone after them."

Gio nodded as Erik stood quickly and helped Giovanni off the bed.

"Run Gio, quickly, like a rabbit."

Raoul watched the boy shot off into the night, "Will he be safe?"

"Safer than us."

* * *

Katerina closed her eyes at the sound of breaking glass. He was getting restless. Christine stayed huddled in Katerina's arms. More glass shattered followed by loud cursing. Christine flinched and Katerina opened her eyes as the woman began to cry again. 

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut her up!"

Katerina stood quickly and shoved Christine behind her as the madman came rushing up the steps. He ignored her and tried to lunge at Christine.

But Katerina got in his way and his fist fell upon her face as Christine gasped and tried to push herself against the wall.

Katerina ignored the blunt pain in her jaw, "Monsieur, you don't seem at all content."

The man froze and Christine blinked at Katerina's calm voice.

He regarded her with sea green eyes that glittered in the sparse candlelight. Katerina could see twisted scars around the edges of his mask. He smiled as the gentleman returned to his features.

"Non, mademoiselle, I am not content at all. How could you tell?"

Katerina smiled politely as if she were dealing with a reporter, "You seem to have much on your mind."

Short barking laughter filled the echoing grotto, and then he glared at her with a sickeningly twisted smile, "Shall I speak to you my worries? Shall I tell you my troubles, little artiste?" He quickly moved into her space, so that she could not move backwards without tripping over Christine, "Non, I don't think I shall. I think the phantom is capable of keeping his own secrets."

He whirled away and Katerina clenched her fists, "Why don't you tell me about Aria?"

She watched him freeze and his muscles tense under his cloak. She felt Christine grip her skirts.

His voice was angry and halting, "You should not talk about what you do not know."

"I know you found her body in the Rue Lepic. I just thought that was rather odd, what was a ballet dancer doing in the Rue Lepic? No decent girl goes there unless she is looking for trouble or making it. Was your sister decent a decent girl Monsieur?"

She knew the madness in his eyes as he spun on her. Christine screamed as he slammed Katerina into the stone wall. He was trembling as his fingers dug into her arms.

"She was perfect! She was pure! She didn't need to be there! She didn't need to whore herself out for coin! I would have given her all she wanted!"

Katerina heard the tone in his words and looked into the green eyes of the man before her. They hadn't softened, they had just taken on an edge to them; slowly she spoke, low enough for him to hear,

"You killed her, didn't you?"

"Whores deserve to die!"

The cry echoed through the catacombs and suddenly he released her and stumbled back. He blinked as if he had just come out of a stupor; he looked at her for an instant with confusion in his eyes. Then just as quickly he grinned.

His eyes sparkled, "You think you're clever, trying to get a rise out of me. You always think you're so clever, with your smiles and your curves. Men will fall at your feet for your dainty lips, your golden curls…"

Katerina watched him walk back to the underground lake babbling to himself. Christine looked up with fearful eyes,

"What did you do that for? He could have killed you!"

Katerina slowly shook her head, "He might have; I don't think he would have. Not yet, all the players aren't here. That's why he's nervous, he's thinking about what he's going to have to do. Murderers do that."

"How would you know?"

Katerina slid down the wall into a heap of skirts, "My father, a surgeon as I have told you, took me to an asylum when I was fifteen. He explained to me how those people worked, what made them sick, not in their bodies but in their minds."

Christine hugged her knees to her chest, "To think, they called Erik mad."

Katerina smiled, "He is mad sometimes, but never beyond the point of breaking himself; he has come close, but only close."

Katerina closed her eyes. Erik. Had he found them missing yet? Had he found poor frightened Giovanni? Raoul must be going out of his mind, they both must be. Katerina frantically searched her mind for anything that could free them from this horror. All she could wonder is who would tell Thomas and William that she was dead.

"This man is broken."

Christine's soft voice broke Katerina's thoughts.

Laughter sounded from the lake and Katerina nodded without opening her eyes.

* * *

Raoul walked down the alley behind the theater trying to not think too hard about what he was doing. Erik went swiftly ahead of him like as shadow. It took most of Raoul's concentration just to see the man as he flitted ahead, studying the wall for some secret only he knew. After a moment Erik stopped and cocked his head seeming to look at a blank wall. He rapped a brick with his hand and Raoul saw it suddenly move out of the wall. Erik pressed it back in and Raoul saw the small passage open before them. 

"I don't think he knows about this passage, I had forgotten about it myself until Katerina was fixing the theater."

Raoul nodded, "Always full of tricks, aren't you?"

"Trickery is a hobby of mine."

Raoul checked his sword in its sheath and the pistol in his belt. He had been checking them since they had left the flat. They were oddly comforting to him. The madman was outnumbered, that was a consolation. Only a small one because terror whispered at him that they could already be too late. Erik nodded after a moment and slid into the darkness like a whisper. Raoul swallowed and followed the man.

He didn't know how long they moved in the dark until a light appeared ahead of him.

"Whores deserve to die!"

The words echoed through the passage and Raoul flinched. Erik pressed back into the shadows for only an instant and then slid forward. Raoul stayed pressed against the wall.

"They are there, alive."

Raoul felt the panic in him ease as Erik's whisper filled the passage.

"He has them shackled in an alcove, perhaps…" Erik's voice trailed off as the man thought.

"Perhaps?" Raoul whispered after a brief second of not wanting to interrupt the man's thoughts.

"Perhaps if I provide a distraction I can give you time to reach them. There is another passage, not far from here that will take you behind the mirror near the alcove."

"And perhaps Giovanni will return with police before he has a chance to notice they are gone at all."

Erik nodded, "A fleeting chance is better than no chance at all. I will show you the passage."

**

* * *

Yay! A plan! Thank you for waiting! I will update much sooner now that I have done all my schoolwork for the next week, gotta love it when they assign everything at the start of the quarter. Patience and cake for all!**


	20. II Darkened Reflections

**A/N: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any characters in it.**

**Ahh! It is complete! I can have a life now! Of course, only until I start writing again. I would like to take the time to thank everyone that has reviewed this story. You made my first fanfiction a memorable one.Thank you, and I hope to write for you again.**

**Without further ado...**

* * *

Christine sat huddle against the wall. She was cold and she hurt. Katerina had said that the men would come for them but she had not sounded happy about it. Katerina had been livid, she had seen papers stuck to the walls in the grotto and realized that they were Erik's writings. His diary, his music, his drawings… That was how he had known what to do to them. The man was obsessed, it seemed, with Erik and Katerina didn't want them anywhere near each other.

Christine shifted and then she blinked. It was quiet, perfectly quiet. The man's babblings had ceased. She looked up as Katerina suddenly stood, staring out across the grotto.

Christine felt her entire body tense.

Erik was walking towards the grotto, very nonchalantly, through the underground lake. He came and leaned against the portcullis.

"Well, Monsieur? Are you going to let me in?"

Christine's eyes flew to the madman that stood almost motionless on the rocks. Then quite slowly, he bowed and she heard the clank of machinery as the portcullis began to rise.

"You are late in coming," the madman's voice echoed through the grotto.

Erik shrugged, "I was detained."

Christine watched Erik step into the light of the grotto as the phantom's eyes darted all over the grotto.

"We seem to be missing a player, Monsieur. Perhaps you would enlighten me?"

"I sent him on an errand. You did not think the police would be kept out of this forever did you?"

The phantoms short barking laugh filled the grotto, "Brave man you are, willing to get dragged away for your sins."

"Braver than you are," Erik's voice had taken on a decidedly dangerous tone.

Christine swallowed as the phantom slowly stepped into the water until they both faced each other. They were almost the same height, almost; Erik stood an inch taller than the phantom. The mask, the posture… it unsettled her. Like seeing your reflection in a mirror but the mirror was lying to you, it wasn't showing you, it was showing someone else.

They circled each other like predators and Christine saw Katerina run to the end of her chain. She strained against it, keeping her eyes on Erik.

* * *

Erik gritted his teeth against the cocky figure that this man cut in front of him. He reminded Erik of a child, a child trying to imitate an adult, and he wasn't doing a very good job at it.

Erik stood straight and looked him in the eyes, "I have come to discuss terms."

The man's eyes widened and he grinned, "I knew I liked you the moment I read about you. Such a dashing idea, such a villain you were. Your little artiste has made you soft."

"Perhaps you would like to see just how soft?"

Erik crossed his arms under his cloak, his hand finding the hilt of the blade that was hidden under the folds of cloth.

"Is that what you really want? To kill me?"

Erik allowed himself the luxury of a smile, "The women are leaving here alive, and unhurt. If I have to kill you for that to happen it will be no strain on my conscience."

"You are a villain," the man gave a chuckling laugh, "I can see it in your eyes, murder never really goes away. You're never really forgiven, in the end you are just as I am."

Erik hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, "I am _nothing_ like you."

The man cocked his head, "Do you really believe that? Deep down in your rotten soul…"

"Shut your goddamned mouth!"

Katerina's voice echoed in the catacombs and Erik saw the anger on her face as silence filled the grotto.

The man smiled first, "She's a charming little angel, isn't she? I wonder what she tastes like."

"You'll never know."

The blade flashed from his cloak as the man mirrored his action.

* * *

Katerina yanked on the chain that tethered her to the wall. Damn it! What the hell was Erik doing just waltzing in here? The damn man had to have a plan! Swords clashed in the murky water and Katerina looked up.

They were dueling, oh wonderful…

The damned chain was not budging, Katerina stared at her bloody wrist; she could try pulling it through again. The memory of pain made her hesitate and she heard a faint scraping. Katerina blinked as the mirror along the far wall slid open.

Raoul!

Christine leapt to her feet as Raoul made a motion for them to be silent. Katerina nodded and shoved Christine at him. He quickly examined the chain and went to where it was attached to the wall; he motioned for them to pull. Katerina wrapped the chain around her hand and tugged, as did Christine and Raoul shoved a dagger into the loop of metal that held the chains together.

* * *

Erik tumbled into the water and brought his blade up to block. The man was strong and his form was wild. It was all Erik could do to block his attacks. Damn it! He could see Raoul now and if he could see him then…

Erik twisted away and feinted to the right. The man fell for it and left himself open for an instant. Erik struck but found his blade locked with the phantoms. His eyes were wild and he laughed as Erik tried to twist his blade away. He suddenly found himself being flung backwards towards the portcullis, he blinked as the man didn't attack but quickly drew a pistol from his belt.

The world blurred around him for an instant as Erik frantically shouted a warning but the phantom fired; right into the alcove where the girls were.

* * *

Christine thought she screamed, maybe it had been someone else. The world came back into focus for an instant with Katerina yelling.

"Raoul! Christine, catch him!"

It was a mess in her head but she managed to catch her husband before he crashed down onto the stone floor. Katerina was there in an instant, pulling off his cloak and ripping a length of cloth from it. Christine blinked, he had been shot. That was what happened, Raoul had been shot.

Katerina was holding the cloth against his shoulder as he grunted in pain. Christine could see blood dripping from beneath the wadded cloth. Her head was a cacophony of fear and sounds. Oh God, please God, don't let him… Please don't…

"Christine!"

She blinked and looked at Katerina.

Katerina looked at her, "You need to keep pressure on the wound. Do you understand?"

Christine blinked for a second and then nodded.

She took over for Katerina cradling Raoul in her arms. His eyes fluttered and he tried to move.

"Stay where you are, Vicomte. You'll bleed out if you start moving."

Katerina's sharp voice snapped him back into consciousness and he looked up at Christine.

"Christine…"

"Shush, don't move."

She didn't know what to say, what to do. She didn't want to cry in front of him, she didn't want to be afraid. Christine felt her chest flutter and she almost lost control, but he smiled at her. He _smiled_ at her… Oh God please…

* * *

Erik tackled the man over the screams. He didn't see what had happened. He had been too preoccupied with trying to stop it.

"Raoul! Christine, catch him!"

It had hit Raoul…

He felt his wrist strike something and his blade tumble away into the water. Luckily for him the phantom seemed to have also lost his weapon. Erik felt a jerk on his cloak and quickly pulled the tie, loosing the cloak as the man lost his grip on him. Erik turned and slammed the man into the stone wall by the portcullis. They stood there, scuffling for a moment, testing each other's strength.

The man grinned, "You think you'll get away with it, don't you? That you'll always get away? Not this time."

Erik heard a sharp click and a brilliant flash of light erupted from the man's hand. That bastard had set off a flash powder bomb.

He was being slammed backwards into the portcullis. He struck out blindly and made contact but it was weak and in a second there was a hand around his wrist, tight and painful and incredibly strong. Erik heard himself cry out as something in his wrist cracked and he tumbled to his knees.

"You always get away with it," he could hear the voice echo above him and it sickened him, "not this time, fellow ghost, this time _I_ get away, _I_ disappear."

Erik heard the clank of metal and then he was kicked squarely in the chest. Erik blinked as he was slammed back into the water and went under. He quickly sat up as his vision began to clear, only to realize in a sudden horror that he was under the portcullis, and that the madman was bring it down.

* * *

Katerina felt her heart freeze when she looked up. The madman was standing over something in the water. His hands were hooked into the portcullis. He was holding it down. Holding it down on… She saw a hand burst from the water and grasp onto the portcullis. Erik was trying to pull himself up but…

Katerina looked at Christine who trembled in fear and at Raoul who was bordering on unconsciousness. Raoul's sword lay with his torn cloak a few feet away. Katerina looked up at Erik once more. He couldn't move. He was pinned and she saw the madman ease his grip for an instant before pressing the wall of metal down again.

Finally she looked down at her hand, bloodied in the shackle. After a moment she swallowed. She knew how the human hand was built. She knew what bone to break…

* * *

Erik struggled to breathe as the length of metal pressed into his chest. He knew ribs were broken and if he didn't do something quickly he was either going to drown or be crushed. His right hand was useless and his left arm shook as he tried in vain to keep the portcullis from cutting him in half.

He could hear laughter; he could hear the damn man laughing!

"I will win, there will only be one ghost; I will be the ghost…"

He pressed the portcullis down as his babblings grew less coherent and Erik felt his grip slipping. He was weaker than metal, he was weaker than madness… His head dipped under the water for an instant and he gritted his teeth as the strain of holding himself up grew.

He felt the world begin to blacken and he looked up at the man who stared down at him with crazed eyes.

"Only a ghost, only a ghost, only a ghost…"

The whispered chants of a madman were all that he could hear as the world slowed down for him. He blinked for a second; he thought he had heard a splash. The madman blinked and turned. He had heard it too. Erik closed his eyes as his grip gave way and a sickening crunch echoed through his mind. He looked up again to find that the scene had changed.

The madman was spiraling away from the portcullis, a shining blade protruding from his chest. Erik saw the hilt in his back as the man fell away leaving Katerina standing in his place.

Erik fell back into the water as the pressure was suddenly lifted from him. He felt hands and a soft touch.

That was his Katerina; that was his goddess.

* * *

Katerina dragged Erik from the water with her good hand. The phantoms bloodied corpse floated on the lake a few feet away from them, the sword still sticking out from his back.

She cradled Erik in her arms and felt the tears finally come to her eyes as she saw the strip of blood staining his shirt. She had to get him safe… She had to get him out of here, but she could tell by his pale face that he was going into shock.

"Erik, please, hear me, please hang on. Erik… Erik!"

He was trembling and Katerina closed her eyes.

"God, God, please God he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't… I can't lose him… Please… I need help…"

She sounded like a little girl, lost and frightened. She held Erik to her as her hand ached and his heart cracked.

"Erik," she breathed.

"There they are! I told you!"

Katerina blinked. It couldn't be. She couldn't hope.

"Giovanni!" she screamed his name as he stumbled through water that neared his chest.

There were a line of policemen behind him, all staring in shock and amazement.

"Madame! What has happened here?"

Katerina swallowed and wove her final lie.

* * *


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue – Three years passed

* * *

**

"Papa. Papa get up."

He growled and tried to hide deeper in the covers.

"Papa, listen."

He decided that listening would be less taxing than actually getting up so he obliged the voice.

He could hear the murmurs of people, laughing, singing, and the strains of music… Funny, it should be quiet…

Merde! He had overslept!

Erik quickly sat up as Giovanni ran around the bed laughing and Katerina stirred beside him.

"Gio! Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

He slid quickly out of bed, ignoring his wife's grumblings.

"You wouldn't get up! I tried earlier but mama kept throwing pillows at me!"

"Merde, Katerina, they have already started rehearsal."

Her dove gray eyes stared sleepily at him and as a reply she rolled over.

Erik rolled his eyes and quickly went to get dressed.

* * *

Four hours later he was sitting in the audience as Giovanni ate an apple and they watched Marguerite perform the jewel song from Faust. She was improving, thank Goodness. If it weren't for Katerina he never would have given the girl a chance. She did have a very lovely voice, passable and sweet enough for any nobleman's ear. 

"Monsieur Durand, you have letters."

"Thank you, Genevieve."

He took the letters from a passing ballerina as she made her way backstage to deliver the mail to the queue.

He smiled, slightly to himself, all the letters were addressed to Master Durand or to Madame Durand. He sifted Katerina's letters out; she could deal with them later, and opened a request for employment from a German violinist. Erik blinked; he couldn't remember if they needed a violinist. He would ask Katerina.

"Papa, is it Tuesday?"

Erik looked down at Giovanni, "You know as well as I do. You'd have to ask your mother."

Giovanni grinned and motioned with his apple, "I think it's Tuesday."

He looked up as Christine smiled at him, her cloak still covered with melting snow.

"There you are!" She laughed as she embraced him.

Three years and he still had to get used to that.

"Aunt Christine!"

Erik stood as she swept Giovanni into her arms, "You are getting much too big to have your poor aunt carry you about, Gio."

The pair just stuck their tongues out at him.

"Where's Aimee?"

"She's with Raoul, Katerina met us at the door, I was only barely able to escape her. She's doing well?"

"Besides practically rolling down the aisles, she's fine."

"Erik, I heard that!"

Erik turned to face his wife who, despite her growing pregnancy, was holding a red velvet clad toddler. Raoul followed behind them with bags and an amused look on his face.

"Ah!" the toddler squealed when she saw him and he quickly took her from his wife relishing the feelings of tiny hands hugging his neck.

"You are back early," he said trying his hardest to keep himself stone-faced.

Raoul rolled his eyes as Katerina and Christine ignored him completely and flitted off to talk with Giovanni on his mother's heels.

"Christine wanted to be here for the baby."

Erik smiled as Aimee bounced in his arms, "Yes, I had heard but she is only seven months along."

"Christine could wait no longer; she said that we must return."

"How was the country?"

"Empty, boring and covered in freezing snow."

Erik looked up at the frowning Vicomte with a slight smile.

"Sounds wonderful, I wonder myself why I don't take these _vacations_."

"Because you would go insane with lack of anything constructive to do."

Erik briskly nodded and the pair began the trek to their rooms above the stage.

"So? _Did_ Christine have any news?"

He heard Raoul sigh, "She is with child again."

"Ha! You owe me thirty francs."

"I know."

Erik looked at the face of the man whom he had begun to trust over the last three years and nodded.

"Katerina insists that we have some sort of dinner for Christmas."

"She would."

Their conversation continued as they walked, discussing this and that as Raoul nodded and Erik held his godchild in his arms.

Upon reflection Erik had noted beforethat things could have turned out much worse.

* * *


End file.
